


moonstruck

by yellowmarshmallow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Autumnal, Bisexual Harry Potter, Domestic as heck, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco is an amazing father, Fluff and more fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry Needs a Hug, M/M, Pagan Festivals, draco celebrates samhain, draco owns a teashop because why the fuck not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowmarshmallow/pseuds/yellowmarshmallow
Summary: moonstruck/ˈmuːnstrʌk/adjective: moonstruck; adjective: moon-struckunable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.Harry isn't in love with Draco Malfoy, he's not. He just happens to want to spend every moment he can with Draco and help him with his teashop and dye his hair for him and discuss the nature of existence and... he might be in love, just a little
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. prologue

The pale sunlight flooded into Harry’s bedroom, catching the specks of dust as they drifted across the room. A muffled noise of cars from the streets below Grimmauld Place broke the silence as Harry pulled the covers over his head to block out the sun, hoping to ignore his responsibilities. However, when he could still feel the sunlight on his skin, beckoning him out of bed, he groaned and rolled to his side, picking up a pillow and pulling it over his head. He wished he could sleep in or perhaps even take a walk around London and he had been meaning to reorganise the kitchen.

Harry was an Auror.

He hated it.

It wasn’t bad to begin with, Harry found the training to be rather enjoyable, and the fact that Ron joined with him, _and_ became his partner once they officially joined the force, meant that Harry didn’t mind that he needed to be an Auror.

When Ron quit, that changed. Harry didn’t blame Ron for quitting (he had lost count of the times he had thought about leaving the Aurors himself, so it would be quite hypocritical) and he was glad that Ron had decided to stay at home with his children, but he knew it would make being an Auror incredibly lonely.

Ron had apologised over and over.

“I’m sorry mate, I really am,” Ron had said as he was shrinking the few items on his desk. Harry smiled faintly, despite the small pit in his stomach. “But I can’t – it was all right in training, but the field is, it’s too much like – like the war.”

“Ron, it’s fine, really,” Harry assured, placing a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “If you’re not happy here, I’m not going to force you to stay. I mean, yeah, it’s fun to have you as my partner but if you don’t want to be here, you shouldn’t have to stay. Plus, I’m sure Hermione would rather tame a dragon than have to leave her job,” he grinned, shrugging as Ron looked relieved at Harry’s relaxed attitude.

“Thanks for not being a prick about it,” Ron said, chuckling. “I just want a slow life you know? I talked to ‘Mione about it and she said I should just – go for it,” Ron explained. “Stop with a job I hate,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his empty pockets. “And maybe I’ll take up a part-time job eventually, help George out or something.”

“Hermione’s not wrong,” Harry muttered with a forced laugh. “And that sounds, actually that sounds great,” he grinned.

Ron watched Harry for a moment before frowning. “You could leave too you know,” Ron said nonchalantly, busying himself with shrinking the last few objects on his desk.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry felt the pit in his stomach grow. “It’s okay, I quite like being an Auror,” he shrugged. The sentence felt strange to say.

Ron gave him a funny look, as if Harry had something on his head. Harry instinctively ran his hand through his hair, just in case. “Well, I’ll see you on Sunday then yeah?”

“’Course you will,” Harry grinned.

In hindsight, it was a bad decision to stay, but it was what people expected from him. It seemed like the logical choice. He’d beaten Voldemort; he wasn’t too shabby at Defence Against the Dark Arts; if it weren’t for the fighting, the loud noises and the chaos, he might enjoy being an Auror. He liked talking to and helping people.

It had been almost twelve years since the war, and Harry had been an Auror for eight of those years. However, he had managed to stay hidden behind small cases relating to missing pets and shop break-ins. No one in the department questioned his ‘odd’ choice of cases, probably because he was _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ , but he still felt bad about it.

Lifting the pillow off his head, Harry felt the guilt tugging at his body, trying to drag him out of bed. He had a nice, stable job and he was complaining about it. Outstretching his arms to his bedside table, he tried to grab his wand. Once he managed to grab it, he cast a quick _tempus,_ and saw that it was 8:17am.

He had to be in the office at 8:45am.

Which meant he could spend a few more minutes in bed.

The silence emanating from the house, almost made Harry want to scream, just to fill the emptiness. In the first few years after the war, the house was never truly quiet. Ginny would be sat in the living room with Teddy when she wasn’t practising Quidditch or playing a match. Their laughter would echo off the walls and Harry would be able to hear it wherever he was in the house.

Harry loved them both dearly, and saw Teddy as his own son, but one day, Ginny and Harry both agreed that what they felt for each other was simply platonic, and whilst she cared for Teddy, she didn’t have the time to help raise him. So, Harry was twenty, finishing up his Auror training, and recently out of a long-term relationship. Thankfully, Andromeda was thrilled to be able to spend more time with her grandson, and their roles reversed. Harry ended up barely seeing Teddy once a month and Andromeda was ruthless in telling him how much of a mess he was.

“He misses you Harry,” she chastised one day over tea. The two of them were sat in her back garden, watching as Teddy ran around in circles with an energy only known to five-year olds.

“I promise I’ll visit more,” he replied. It was the same hollow promise Harry had been making for the past two years.

“ _For Merlin’s sake, Harry,_ ” she spat, her voice tired and cold as she set her teacup down on the garden table with such force, it rocked slightly from side to side. “You can’t do this to him,” she said, and Harry knew she was right. Andromeda was rarely wrong.

Harry sighed. “He doesn’t need me Andie, he’s happier here. Besides, I’m not his father.”

“You’re as good as,” she said, staring at Harry with an intensity as strong as Fiendfyre that chilled his bones. Harry had no idea she felt that way. He had assumed she didn’t want him to try and replace Remus or Tonks. She took a deep breath and smiled softly at Harry’s bewildered expression. “You practically raised the boy, and now you see him once a month. Do you know how difficult that is for him? – he really missed you Harry.”

“I’ll visit,” Harry said, covering his mouth with his teacup. “I – I will, I miss him too,” he admitted, and Andromeda smiled warmly.

“Then why don’t you take him in again, I’m sure you miss having him at Grimmauld place,” she suggested, sipping her tea.

Harry shook his head. “It’s better if he stays with you Andie,” Harry said. He wanted to take Teddy in, but he also knew he was in no position to raise a child, and it would be unfair to Teddy. “But I really will visit more, I promise.”

Andromeda pursed her lips. “I’ll hold you to that Harry,” she sighed, as Teddy wandered up to the two of them to show-off the pebbles he had collected and how he could change his hair to match the colour of the pebbles (which Harry found rather impressive).

True to his word, Harry really did visit more. He visited every Wednesday as that was his day off, and on Saturday evenings. Harry was happy he had stayed true to his word and felt immense joy at watching Teddy grow. Andromeda would send him knowing smiles and glances whenever he interacted with Teddy, as Harry always left his weekly meetups with a brighter smile than when he arrived.

Harry felt a smile push at his lips at thought of Teddy as he stared at his ceiling.

Teddy had started at Hogwarts this year, and never failed to send a letter to Harry, explaining the intricacies of modern life at Hogwarts (from what Teddy had said so far, Harry couldn’t see much of a difference from when he had attended).

He had anxiously awaited Teddy’s first letter, curious to know if it was all he had hoped it to be. Harry practically tore the envelope to shreds when it arrived and quickly scanned the letter, chuckling to himself when he found out Teddy was a Hufflepuff. He wasn’t surprised.

However, he also knew that Teddy was going to be the same type of Hufflepuff as his mother had been, and briefly debated sending a warning letter to McGonagall, especially since Harry had sent Teddy to Hogwarts with the Marauder’s Map, and his invisibility cloak.

Casting another _tempus,_ Harry decided he needed to get out of bed if he didn’t want to be late, again. Traipsing around his bedroom, Harry got dressed into his Auror robes and brushed his teeth, hoping for a peaceful day.

\-----

Harry had not had a peaceful day. His supervisor had nagged at him for being one of the best on the force but refusing to use his skills. His supervisor wasn’t wrong, but he was comfortable with his routine, and he didn’t want that to change. She hadn’t taken kindly to that.

London was having an unusual spell of sunny weather, which meant that Harry had taken to walking home through the Muggle parts of London, revelling in the late afternoon sun. Harry enjoyed walking through the streets of London, particularly the Muggle streets of London, where he wouldn’t get recognised. Despite being almost thirty and managing to avoid being in the papers for the past five years, he still got recognised and praised by everyone he came across.

He sighed, slowing down his pace as he walked through a small park, and watched as parents kept an eye on their children as they ran around. His eye was particularly drawn in by a man with sky blue hair and a boy with platinum blond hair, feeding the ducks. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he smiled as the boy began to jump up and down. Maybe it was the boy’s birthday, or perhaps the man had just told the child they were going on holiday. Maybe he had just told his son they were having takeout for dinner.

As he kept walking, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about them. He wondered whether they actually were father and son, he had assumed they were, but they might not have even been related. Perhaps the man was looking after a friend’s child, the way Harry sometimes looked after Rose and Hugo for Hermione and Ron. Maybe the child was lost, and the man was comforting the child until their parents arrived.

Harry sighed and decided he didn’t want to walk the rest of the way home, so as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t be seen, he apparated to Grimmauld place.

However, every time he walked home; he found his eyes scanning the park for the two. He wasn’t sure why, he convinced himself it must be because he missed Teddy, but whenever his eyes wandered to the pond, he scolded himself, telling himself he was bordering on stalker behaviour. For the rest of the week, he didn’t see them by the pond.

It was now Thursday, and Harry loved his unusually placed weekend, because nowhere was particularly busy, but it did make it difficult to meet up with anyone.

Without Teddy to visit, and with Andromeda visiting a friend in France, Harry took to the streets once more. This time out of boredom more than curiosity.

The streets on the outskirts of London, where Grimmauld place was, were rather quiet, as everyone was at work or school. Harry listened as birds chirped in the trees and the low buzz from central London distracted his mind from his boredom. It was times like this that he missed Ron being an Auror the most, and he hated himself for it.

After an hour of aimless wandering, he realised he had no idea where he was. Then he remembered that didn’t really matter, since he could apparate home if he needed to. He glanced around and saw that he must have wandered deeper into London, as a few shops were scattered about, but the one that caught his eye was a teashop, called _Tea-mendous_ which stood on the corner opposite. It was covered in ivy and the flowers seemed to glisten, as if they had a preservation charm on them. Upon closer inspection, he found that, that was exactly why the flowers glistened.

It wasn’t illegal to see a wizarding teashop which was also for Muggles, but it was highly unusual, and it peaked Harry’s interest. That and any shop with a pun for a name made Harry feel instantly welcomed. The outside of the teashop had a little garden, but it looked as if it was closed off, despite with the unusually warm weather, perhaps because it was almost October. However, the sign on the door clearly said the teashop was open, and Harry decided he was too curious to let this shop pass him by.

He opened the door and was hit by the smell of tea and cinnamon. It was a pleasant combination, but the thoughts of relaxation were quickly interrupted when he saw a man with sky blue hair, similar to that of the man at the pond, behind the counter. He was tall, his features sharp, and the hair made the man seem ethereal, but Harry recognised the man almost instantly, and took a sharp intake of breath as they made eye contact.

“Well don’t stand in the door like a prat all day Potter, you’ll let the heat out,” he drawled, nodding his head towards the back of the teashop.

It was Malfoy.


	2. taste of autumn

A part of Harry hated to admit it, but Draco was extremely handsome. His hair was styled almost exactly as it had been at Hogwarts, but with a lot less hair gel and it was the colour of the _sky_. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his dark mark on display. However, it was surrounded by a flower Harry couldn’t name, and the flowers circled the mark, as if trying to replace it or suffocate it. Harry assumed that was the point. Malfoy looked healthy, not anything like the sickly pale boy he had seen during the trials. If it had been anyone other than Malfoy, Harry would have smiled.

Instead he stood in the door, opening and closing his mouth, unsure of what to say.

“We don’t have all day Potter, are you staying or not?” Malfoy sighed, leaning his elbows on the counter, making the action of leaning against a counter seem regal. The shop had a few people sat in the back, and there was a very comfortable looking sofa by an empty fireplace.

“Er – right, sorry,” Harry said, quickly stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Malfoy sighed and offered a tired smile. “You didn’t expect to see me as much as I didn’t expect to see you Potter, I can imagine this is a bit of a shock,” he said, and Harry thought he was mocking him, but then he saw that Malfoy wasn’t sneering. Malfoy looked rather worried.

Harry had a lump form in his throat and nodded, heading straight to the sofa, feeling incredibly awkward. He wasn’t sure why he stayed, but a part of him believed it would be rude to walk in, see Malfoy, and then leave. Harry didn’t have anything else to do anyway.

The inside of the shop was just as welcoming as the outside. Each table had a glass vase filled with varying bunches of flowers. Some had roses, others had lilies, and some had what Harry assumed to be wildflowers. Harry smiled when he saw that the table in front of him had lilies.

There was a faint hum of magic emanating from the teashop, and Harry hoped that was due to it being owned by and visited by magic folk, rather than the tea being made by magic. Harry had only tried once to make tea with magic, and it was the second most disgusting drink he ever had to drink. It would have been the worst, but nothing has ever, or will ever be more disgusting than the Polyjuice potion he drank in his second year. Although, as it seemed that Malfoy would be the one making his tea, he was certain that it wouldn’t be made with magic – he had a feeling Malfoy was a stickler when it came to making tea.

When Malfoy appeared on his right, he almost fell off the sofa, and Malfoy smirked, raising an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. “If you’re staying here because of some odd Harry Potter courtesy, you _are_ allowed to leave,” Malfoy said, staring at Harry, trying to discern why Harry was in the teashop he worked at.

Harry shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I don’t mind that you work here Malfoy, the war was twelve years ago, I doubt you’re the same person,” Harry said, his eyes unable to focus on Malfoy, and instead looking at the empty fireplace. “You aren’t, are you?” Harry needed to ask.

Malfoy’s eyes went dark and his body tensed. “No Potter, and if you’ve come to accuse me of –“

“I’ve not come to accuse you of anything!” Harry exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. “I was wandering about and I was thirsty. I didn’t even know you were still in London and I certainly didn’t know you would be working in a teashop.”

Malfoy was still tense, but his eyes looked less as if he was ready to attack Harry, and more as if he was trying to understand the situation. He sighed. “Look Potter, there’s a lot of bad blood between us and I –“

“If you’re about to apologise, I will hex you, you apologised years ago,” he said, interrupting Malfoy before he got a chance to. Harry saw Malfoy look confused for a moment, before regaining composure.

“All right,” he shrugged. “I am sorry though.”

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. Of course, Malfoy hadn’t listened. “I forgave you a long time ago Malfoy,” he said, glancing up at Malfoy whose ears went pink as he nodded. “Why do you work in a teashop?” Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity. He hoped he wasn’t pissing Malfoy off, but when he looked at Malfoy’s expression, he seemed to be completely unbothered.

“I _own_ a teashop Potter,” Malfoy clarified with a small smile. “And after, the war, I didn’t care much for doing anything else,” he shrugged, and Harry knew Malfoy wasn’t going to explain further.

“So, you’re a tea expert then?” Harry teased, grinning as Malfoy’s cheeks went pink.

“I’ve always known a lot about tea,” Malfoy admitted. “One of the benefits of growing up with a traditional family I suppose.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Well then what do you recommend? I know nothing about tea,” Harry grinned, changing the topic after noticing Malfoy’s odd reaction to mentioning his family. Harry had managed to glance at the long list of tea, and he recognised two.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t, I remember you used to put at least seven sugars in your tea at school,” he sniffed, and Harry felt his face warm.

“Seven sugars is a _perfectly_ acceptable amount,” Harry muttered. “Besides, you used to do exactly the same,” Harry grinned as Malfoy scoffed.

“I put two sugars in my tea Potter, that’s hardly the same,” Malfoy replied. “Seven sugars means that you are practically drinking milky sugar water,” he grimaced.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it Malfoy,” Harry said, wagging a finger at Malfoy who waved his hand dismissively.

“There are some things you don’t need to try to know how abysmal they would be,” Malfoy said, looking at Harry as if he was mad.

Harry laughed, unable to help himself. “I’m glad there’s an expert to help me understand the complexities of tea then,” he joked, and Malfoy tilted his chin up.

“Obviously you’re in desperate need of an expert to teach you the correct way to drink tea,” Malfoy drawled.

“In that case, I’ll have whatever you recommend,” Harry grinned, and Malfoy shook his head with a smile as he walked back towards the counter “Oh, and Malfoy?”

Malfoy hummed, turning back around.

“I’d say we’ve spent enough time thinking about the war,” he said, hoping Malfoy would understand what he was saying. He had spent too long dwelling on the war and its consequences.

Malfoy laughed, his laughter only adding to the warm welcoming feeling of the shop. Harry didn’t even try and stop himself from grinning in response. “I couldn’t agree more.”

As soon as Malfoy left, a noise of clattering china and boiling water filled the shop, drowning out the quiet chattering from the few people in the shop. Harry could see the counter in the corner of his eye and watched as Malfoy gracefully danced around the space behind the counter, occasionally disappearing behind a door to where Harry assumed was a kitchen.

Harry hadn’t seen or heard about Malfoy in years, and he supposed this was why. He had submerged himself in Muggle culture; entirely, by the looks of his hair. As much as Harry tried not to watch Malfoy, it was difficult. It was as if staring at Malfoy would give him the answers to the question in his mind – it didn’t; in fact, it only furthered his curiosity.

It wasn’t long before Malfoy returned, carrying a small tray. Upon the tray was a rather unusual looking teapot, covered in a mass of painted swirling leaves, curving around the handle, and a matching teacup with a silver tea strainer delicately balanced on top. There was also a tiny pot of a golden liquid Harry assumed was honey.

“This is a type of green tea called sencha. It is difficult to drink incorrectly,” Malfoy said, and Harry could see a smirk behind his eyes as he stopped himself from saying the insult that Harry knew was bubbling in his mind, probably at the hopes of not angering Harry. Harry wondered what the insult was. “You don’t add milk and I don’t recommend adding sugar, it gathers at the bottom of your cup.” Harry had no idea how anyone could drink unsweetened tea. “If you must sweeten it, then add honey,” he said, watching Harry’s expression with an amused glint in his eye.

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, feeling slightly awkward as Malfoy turned and left. It was odd to see Malfoy being polite; it was especially odd to see him being genuinely polite.

Pouring himself a cup, Harry tried to drink it unsweetened, as Malfoy unsubtly told him he should, but after one sip, he knew he needed to add the honey. Unsweetened, it tasted earthy, and bitter, but after a little bit of honey, it tasted wonderful. It was still earthy and slightly nutty, but it wasn’t bitter.

Smiling to himself, Harry sat, drinking his tea and observing the teashop, an elderly couple near him catching his eye as they sat in silence, their hands entwined on table, simply enjoying the presence of someone they deeply cared for.

Beside them, at a separate table, was a young boy with platinum blond hair that curled ever so slightly at the ends – he looked like a smaller version of Malfoy, so much so that Harry was unsure about whether he might actually be Malfoy’s child. The boy was reading, completely absorbed by whatever it was, and Harry was reminded of Teddy whose expression was similar when he was reading a book he enjoyed.

The boy sat, staring at his book for a moment with his eyebrows drawn together, before he stood, still clutching his book and walked towards Malfoy, who turned upon the arrival of the small boy at the counter. Malfoy smiled softly as the boy outstretched his arms, offering the book to Malfoy and pointing at its pages. Swiftly lifting who Harry believed he could safely assume was Malfoy’s son, onto the edge of the counter, Malfoy smiled again as the boy passed the book to him. Harry couldn’t hear the conversation, but he was guessing that the boy had come across a word he didn’t recognise.

When he was satisfied with his father’s explanation, the child walked back to his table, stopping to talk to all the customers as he did. It seemed that _Tea-mendous_ had quite a few regulars. The boy smiled politely at the regulars and held himself as if he was ten years older.

As he reached his table, he looked over at Harry’s, and Harry smiled as the boy tilted his head, placing his book on his table. Slowly, he made his way to Harry’s table, and stopped by the armchair next to Harry. “I haven’t seen you here before,” the boy said, albeit apprehensively.

Harry smiled, sipping his tea. “Well, I’ve never been here before,” he said, watching as the boy’s eyes lit up.

“My dad makes the best chocolate cake, you should try some, it’s the best,” the boy grinned, sitting down in the armchair.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll be sure to try it,” he promised, unable to say anything else to this boy as his grin widened.

“Dad says that it’s the way you make it,” the boy explained. “It has to be done the Mu- the _normal_ way,” the boy said, his eyes widening when he realised, he almost slipped up.

Harry nodded in agreement. “I agree with your Dad,” he looked around slightly, checking no one was nearby before leaning forwards slightly. “Magic tends to give it a horrible aftertaste,” he added in a whisper, biting back a laugh as the boy’s eyes went comically wide.

“You – you’re a wizard?” he whispered back, his eyes shining. It appeared they didn’t get many magic customers. That thought pulled at Harry’s heart slightly.

“I am,” Harry smiled back.

“Have you ever met a dragon?” he asked excitedly, and Harry almost choked on his tea.

Harry decided against discussing his run-ins with dragons throughout his teenage years. “A friend of mine works on a reserve in Romania, and he has a habit of bringing his work home with him,” Harry chuckled, remembering the time Charlie walked into the Burrow with three baby dragons and Molly almost fainted at the sight of them. Fred and George found it hilarious because Molly had been in the middle of reprimanding them but stopped mid-sentence and never got around to telling the twins to de-gnome the garden, as she had been hinting.

The boy looked at Harry in awe. “I’ve always wanted to see a dragon, but Daddy says that we can’t,” he sighed, pouting.

“Your Dad is just looking out for you,” Harry said, going to take another sip of his tea, only to realise he had finished another cup. “Dragons are really dangerous; my friend is always covered in burns,” he explained, pouring another cup of tea.

“No, Daddy says it’s for different reasons,” the boy said, shaking his head. Harry furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, until he realised what the boy meant.

“Ah, yeah, that,” Harry said, unable to come up with a way to respond. He sighed. “Some people seem to be unable to move on.”

The boy looked at him for a minute, examining him. Harry shifted, wondering if he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to say to a child. “I’m Scorpius,” the boy smiled, sticking out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Scorpius,” Harry said, shaking Scorpius’ hand, who seemed delighted to have a new friend. “I’m Harry.”

“Mr Harry, do you know much about dragons?” Scorpius asked, and Harry tried his best to suppress a chuckle at ‘ _Mr Harry’_.

“I don’t,” Harry smiled, sipping his tea as Scorpius grinned.

“Did you know dragon’s fire breath can be up to 300°C?” Scorpius said, bouncing enthusiastically on the armchair, and Scorpius then began to explain everything he knew about dragons; Harry was amazed at how much this child knew. Half of the facts he was explaining, Harry had never heard before.

Harry couldn’t help being charmed by this blond child. His enthusiasm about dragons and clear adoration of his father melted Harry’s heart and it was only when Harry realised he had run out of tea, that he noticed how long he had been listening to Scorpius ramble.

“And apparently if Norwegian Ridgeback’s scales start to turn a different colour, it means that they need to spend more time in the sun, but that can be really difficult because –“

“Is Scorpius enthusing about dragons again?” Malfoy asked, placing a hand on the armchair Scorpius was sat on, smiling. “I apologise if he’s talked your ear off Potter,” he joked, and Harry shook his head as Scorpius grumbled at being interrupted.

“I don’t mind, it beats having no one to talk to if I’m honest,” Harry sighed, realising he’d overshared as Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows. Harry wished he had more tea to drink, and instead became very interested with arranging the teacup on the saucer.

“ _See_ , Mr Harry doesn’t mind, now –“

“Why don’t you go talk to Mrs Drooble for a minute ma petite étoile?” Malfoy encouraged, his eyes flickering from Harry to his son.

Scorpius groaned. “Mrs Drooble is – she’s,” he paused for a moment. “She’s – elle est si _ennuyeuse_ papa,” he complained. Harry blinked at the switch in language.

“J’ai besoin de parler à Potter pendant _un_ moment,” Malfoy replied, smiling softly at Scorpius who huffed and stood up, heading to a woman sat in the back corner. Once he was gone, Malfoy sat in the armchair. “Apologies for my son Potter, Scorpius can be – rather _stubborn_ at times,” he explained with a sigh.

“He’s a nice kid,” Harry shrugged, watching as Malfoy smiled.

“He is,” he said quietly, before shaking his head. “How did you find the tea?” Malfoy asked, nodding at the teacup.

Harry grinned. “It was good, very bitter without honey though,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as Malfoy continued to stare at him. It was similar to the stare Scorpius had given his earlier. ‘Like father like son,’ Harry mused. “Are you going to continue to stare at me, or tell me what it is you want to say?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Malfoy’s face turned pink.

“I – I was wondering if this will be a common occurrence is all,” Malfoy dismissed, regaining his composure.

Harry grinned. “Why? Will you miss me if I say no?” he teased, biting back a chuckle as Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“I’ll need to mentally prepare myself if I’m to be subjected to your presence regularly Potter,” Malfoy drawled, the pink hue of his face deepening.

“Who else will I learn the complexities of tea from?” Harry shrugged, trying his best to look nonchalant.

Malfoy smirked. “I suppose that’s true,” he said, picking up the empty teacup and teapot.

“By the way,” Harry said. “What money do you take?” he asked.

Malfoy looked at Harry with an amused glint in his eye. “We accept Galleons Potter,” he said. “The tea is seven Sickles.”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips as he placed the Sickles on the table. “I’ll see you soon I guess,” Harry smiled, waving at Scorpius as he stood to leave. Scorpius waved back enthusiastically. “It was weirdly _good_ to see you Malfoy.”

“You too Potter.”

\-----

Harry could not stop thinking about Malfoy.

He really tried not to think about Malfoy’s sky-blue hair and his warm smile and his carefree laughter and the way he softened when talking to or about his son – Harry tried _really_ hard.

Everyone had been surprised when Malfoy vanished from the wizarding world, but they had been more surprised when he began donating hefty amounts of the Malfoy fortune to every charity possible. The Prophet had claimed it was a weak grasp at redeeming the Malfoy family name, but Harry had always suspected that wasn’t really the case. If it _had_ been an attempt to redeem the family name, why disappear from the wizarding world?

As Harry was sat at his desk, he found his mind drifting to Malfoy and his teashop. He thought about what tea Malfoy would get him to try next.

And so, when he saw a familiar head of sky-blue hair in the park walking towards him, he was certain he was imagining it; when he saw a familiar, platinum haired child holding his hand, he was still absolutely certain that it was purely coincidental.

“Hello Mr Harry!” Scorpius exclaimed, waving excitedly, bundled up as if it was December instead of September. Harry bit back a smile. “We came to see the ducks,” he explained, nodding seriously. “They get sad if you don’t visit regularly.”

Harry nodded as if that made perfect sense, still biting back a smile.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted with a small smile.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied, grinning as Malfoy’s cheeks turned slightly pink.

Malfoy looked as elegant as ever as he wore a pale grey trench coat and a black turtleneck. Although, the collar of his turtleneck was partially hidden beneath a greyish-green scarf, that danced in the breeze. His hair was styled back but it looked wind-swept. Of course, there was always a possibility that it was wind-swept but Malfoy somehow managed to make it look intentional. He looked incredibly autumnal, and Harry had to admit, Malfoy looked as if he were from a work of fiction.

Scorpius glanced between the two of them, with a dramatic flair known only to those related to the Black family. “Have you come to see the ducks too?” he asked Harry, startling the two of them. Harry didn’t have the heart to say no.

Which was why he was now walking with the two Malfoy’s on their way to the pond. He walked next to Malfoy as Scorpius ran ahead of them, occasionally calling back to them about how incredibly slow they walked.

“Thank you for entertaining Scorpius, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly, watching as Scorpius was engaged in conversation with an old woman’s German Shepherd. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“I get the feeling it’s impossible to say no to Scorpius,” Harry chuckled, feeling his heart skip a beat as Malfoy laughed too. “Besides, I have never once visited the ducks, they must be feeling bloody _depressed_ by now,” he joked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I swear he got his obsession with creatures from Luna,” he muttered with a smile.

“From Luna?” Harry asked, for a split-second wondering if that meant Luna was Scorpius’ mother before remembering that Luna had never shown an interest in being in a relationship.

“She visits quite regularly,” Malfoy explained. “And _every_ time she fills his head with _utter_ nonsense about Nargles and _Sugar Spinks_ ,” he scowled.

Harry bit back a laugh. “That’s Luna,” he replied, watching as Scorpius was still talking to the German Shepard.

“And now my Daddy is taking me to see the ducks – I know that ducks aren’t your friends but they’re really nice!” Scorpius explained to the dog.

“And if we’re going to get there before nightfall, you’ll have to say goodbye to your new friend Scorpius,” Malfoy interrupted, smiling softly at his son, who looked very conflicted.

Scorpius looked between the dog and Malfoy. “It was nice to meet you Alexander, maybe we’ll see each other again,” he grinned, scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“I hope he didn’t bother you ma’am,” Malfoy smiled, charming the old lady on the bench, who blushed.

“Oh, not at all, not at all,” she said, smiling at Malfoy. She glanced between the three of them. “He’s such a sweet boy, you two –“

“Harry, Harry!” Scorpius exclaimed, distracting Harry from Malfoy’s conversation. “Did you know that dragons don’t like ducks?” Scorpius explained as he began to head towards the pond.

“Really?” Harry asked, still amazed at how much Scorpius knew about dragons. “Hang on Scorpius, we should wait for your Dad,” Harry said, as Scorpius hadn’t yet stopped.

Scorpius nodded, raising his head proudly. He looked like a mini Malfoy at that moment. “My Dad told me so, and I read all about it, they don’t understand why ducks exist,” he said, waiting with Harry.

Harry couldn’t figure out how Scorpius could remember so much about dragons. When he was eight, Harry could have never sat and read a book. ‘Maybe that’s because Dudley’s gang wouldn’t let me,’ he thought, sighing internally.

When Malfoy joined them again, his face was a deep crimson. Harry tilted his head, opening his mouth only to be interrupted by Malfoy. “No,” he said, pointing a finger at Harry, who raised his hands.

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Harry lied, curious about what the lady said that made Malfoy so flustered.

Malfoy took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure as they approached the pond. Scorpius looked at Harry, mirroring his confusion. “It’s the Nargles,” Scorpius said, completely convinced. Harry covered his spluttered laugh with a cough.

“Scorpius –“ Malfoy sighed.

“Auntie Pansy agrees with Miss Luna,” Scorpius nodded, and Harry smirked at Malfoy who glared at Harry, daring him to agree.

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed.

Harry shrugged. “Who are we to say whether or not they exist?” he grinned, enjoying the exasperated look Malfoy shot at him.

“Sod off,” he muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear and not Scorpius.

Harry feigned innocence, grinning at Malfoy. Scorpius interrupted them, shushing the two of them, as if he were the adult.

“You’ll scare the ducks – they’re just there, look,” he said, pointing to the far edge of the pond, where a small gathering of ducks quickly jumped into the water as they saw Scorpius, swimming toward him. “They like me,” Scorpius explained, giggling at the bemused expression on Harry’s face as he ran to meet the ducks.

“I can see,” Harry said, looking at Malfoy, amused. He already knew that Hagrid would love Scorpius when he went to Hogwarts.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “What are you smirking at Potter?” he asked.

“You’ve raised a Hufflepuff,” Harry pointed out, suppressing a chuckle at the moment of horror on Malfoy’s face.

“ _Merlin,_ I have, haven’t I?” Malfoy said, with a small smile towards his son, who was talking to the ducks about the proper etiquette surrounding teacups. He sighed. “It would be better for him than being in Slytherin,” he said.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Potter,” Malfoy said, his voice low.

Realisation hit him. “Oh,” Harry said. “Yeah… I – is, is being Slytherin _really_ still seen as a bad thing?” he grumbled, raising his hands in exasperation.

“If you’re a Malfoy,” he sighed, and Harry felt his heart thump in his chest.

“I – but that was years ago!” Harry exclaimed, a cold feeling rushing through his body as Malfoy laughed bitterly.

“Not to everyone Potter,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “It’s all right I suppose. Everyone will have their opinions on what I did.” As he spoke, he forced a smile to Scorpius who waved his arm vigorously, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s not all right,” Harry insisted, also waving to Scorpius. “You’ve done so much since the war to become a better person,” Harry said, glancing at Malfoy, and they both blushed a faint pink as they made eye contact. Harry coughed, looking away. “And I’m sure anyone who knows Scorpius would agree.”

Malfoy blinked at Harry, but before he could ask Harry to elaborate, Harry grinned.

“ _Scorpius_ _is a good kid_ ,” Harry responded.

Malfoy blinked at Harry, staring at him in a way that implied complete bewilderment. “I wanted to raise him the way I wish I had been.”

“If you weren’t a good person, or weren’t at least trying to be, Scorpius would show that,” Harry shrugged, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “And even without that, it’s clear _you_ are a good person Malfoy, that’s why I forgave you – you bettered yourself.”

With a sharp nod, Malfoy glanced back at Scorpius, his cheeks rosier than before. He sighed in relief when Scorpius beckoned him over to the ducks.

Harry stayed on the path, not wanting to intrude, but Scorpius had other plans. “Harry!” the small blond called out, beckoning him over. Hesitating, Harry glanced at Malfoy who raised a single eyebrow, challenging him to say no to his son. “Lyra, Cygnus, this is my new friend Harry Potter,’ Scorpius said to two of the closest ducks as Harry arrived. “He’s nice.”

The next few hours were spent wandering the park, listening to Scorpius explain each duck’s backstory and Malfoy tried not to laugh at Harry, who looked as if someone was explaining Muggle astrophysics to him; his eyes widened as he began to lose his understanding of the conversation. Harry couldn’t remember how many secret glares he had shot towards Malfoy, but his expression instantly disintegrated as he saw Malfoy’s blue hair fall over his eyes as he tried to contain his laughter.

He felt his chest tighten.

\-----

September flooded into October, leaving the traces of mid-autumn as it did; the leaves turned from green to red, and the air became colder as the ice attached itself to the breeze, with no one leaving their houses without a hat and a scarf. Harry spent his days at the office ignoring most of his co-workers, daydreaming of teashops, walks through the park and blue hair.

Harry had become quite the regular at _Tea-mendous_ , visiting on Wednesdays and Thursdays, trying every tea that Malfoy placed in front of him, although it was all fairly basic (mostly different white, black and fruit teas), and despite the occasional awkwardness, he was starting to consider Malfoy a friend, rather than an acquaintance, but perhaps that was just because he made fantastic tea.

They spoke about quidditch and the ministry and tea and growing old despite not even being thirty. The ease of the conversation should have worried or at the least concerned Harry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He enjoyed talking to Draco Malfoy.

He enjoyed the way Malfoy brushed his hair from his face as he laughed and the way his eyes softened at the sight of Scorpius and his fascination with anything Muggle; the passion he held when talking about his teashop and the casual mentions of dyeing his hair a pale green next because orange would clash with his skin tone.

Perhaps that was _why_ he never questioned why Malfoy was on his mind almost all the time like an obsession – like his sixth year.

Except this time, it was different – he wanted to get to know Malfoy, not figure out if he was connected to some evil scheme. He wanted to make Malfoy laugh or see him smile or start a petty argument about whether or not seven teaspoons of sugar is too much for a single cup, just so that Malfoy would give his speech on the correct sugar to tea ratio.

Both of them skirted around the war at times, the painful memories refusing to let them escape the unavoidable awkwardness, but they’d simply sigh and complain about the ridiculousness of seventeen-year olds fighting to the death.

It was a Thursday and the dread of going back to work was settling in, but the smell of ginger and apples let his mind forget for a while. The shop was emptier than usual, but Harry only cared about his sofa seat by the fireplace, which was yet to be claimed.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Gracing us with your presence again I see.”

“Hello to you too Malfoy,” Harry grinned. “I told you yesterday you’d see me again.”

Malfoy shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Forgive a man for hoping that meant he wouldn’t see you until next week,” he said, waving a hand dismissively as he stood straight once more.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily I’m afraid,” Harry chuckled. “So what’s the surprise tea today?”

Malfoy tutted. “ _Hardly_ a surprise if I tell you now, is it Potter?”

“I’ll get you to slip up one day,” Harry chuckled. He bit his lower lip as Malfoy looked momentarily horrified.

“I’d never break the sacred secrecy of tea.”

“Coming from you, I _almost_ believed that was a real thing,” Harry teased, earning a small smile from Malfoy.

“Yes well, if you want the _secret tea_ , stop pestering me and leave me be you git,” Malfoy shooed, making Harry roll his eyes.

“And some chocolate cake,” Harry added with a smile. “I enjoyed it the last time.”

“You do have a sweet tooth Potter,” Malfoy retorted. Nonetheless, he grabbed a plate from beneath the counter and placed it on top.

With an amused shrug, Harry said, “I blame the Hogwarts treacle tart.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, giving Harry a pointed look. Harry raised his hands.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you be,” Harry said, biting back a smile as Malfoy sighed.

“Finally, the twit leaves,” Malfoy drawled.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m still here you know,” Harry muttered, watching the corners of Malfoys lips twitch upwards.

“Much to my disappointment you are indeed,” Malfoy said lazily. “If you’d like your tea at some point today you prat, I suggest you go and sit down.”

Harry chuckled and left Malfoy to his own devices, walking to his seat and taking in the faint scent of cardamom and apples, which Harry had learnt was Malfoy’s favourite tea, as he was constantly sipping on a cup – that and the teashop always smelt faintly of apples or cardamom.

The fireplace was not ablaze, but the wood had been reduced to orange embers which reminded Harry of the time he read bedtime stories to Teddy after he awoke from a nightmare.

Harry was still staring at the fire when Malfoy arrived with the tea and cake; in fact, he didn’t even notice Malfoy arrive until he heard a soft clearing of the throat. “So, what is the _surprise tea_ today?” Harry asked, tearing his eyes from the fire.

Malfoy blinked at Harry; his eyebrows furrowed. However, it only lasted for a moment before he gently shook his head and passed Harry a teacup. “Peppermint tea,” he replied.

“Peppermint?” Harry exclaimed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yes Potter, that is indeed what I said,” he drawled with a smirk. “You just drink it as it is.”

Chuckling, Harry sipped the tea and his eyes went wide causing Malfoy to laugh.

“Sorry,” Malfoy said, biting back another laugh. “You look quite bemused.”

“How have I never drunk peppermint tea before, it’s amazing!” Harry enthused, and Malfoy had to bite back another laugh.

“Honestly Potter, I’m not surprised,” Malfoy sniffed. “We’ve already agreed that you know nothing of the etiquette surrounding tea so…” he trailed off, gesturing at Harry.

“Sod off you git,” Harry laughed, lightly kicking Malfoy in the shins.

“Watch it you great lummox, you’ll leave a bruise,” Malfoy hissed.

“That’s exactly my intention,” Harry grinned, taking another sip of tea as Malfoy aimed for his shins and missed. “Have you made any decisions on what colour you’re going to dye your hair next?”

Malfoy sighed and flung his arms over the arms of the armchair and leaned back. “Not yet,” he said. “It needs to be autumnal, obviously, or else it will clash with the colours of the season,” he explained, and Harry nodded.

“Obviously,” Harry said, having no idea what Malfoy was on about.

“And I feel like going brunet wouldn’t suit me.”

“Doesn’t have a certain ‘ _Malfoy flair’?_ ” Harry asked, chuckling when Malfoy glared at him.

“I still rather like the idea of dying my hair a pastel green,” Malfoy admitted. Harry stared at Malfoy, who glared at Harry when he noticed.

He shook his head. “Emerald green would suit you more,” Harry said, leaning in, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards when he noticed Malfoy turn a faint reddish hue. “Or maybe fir tree green.”

Malfoy only nodded as Harry finished his cup of peppermint tea and poured himself another. “I’ll think about it,” Malfoy replied, regaining his composure. “I don’t think I can go emerald green.”

Harry tilted his head. “Because it’s the Slytherin house colour?”

Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. “No, not because of that.”

When Malfoy didn’t elaborate, Harry let the subject go. “So, why peppermint tea?”

“Because you look dreadful,” Malfoy said simply, rolling up his sleeves.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t sugar coat it too much, I might be sick,” he muttered.

“It’s true,” Malfoy shrugged. “You look as if you haven’t slept for a week and you stared at the fire like you wanted to jump into it,” he said bluntly. “Peppermint improves sleep and stress-levels, and it can make you feel more energetic.”

“In other words, you’re a Hufflepuff at heart?” Harry asked, sipping his tea and staring at Malfoy over the edge of the cup.

Malfoy froze for a moment. “If you’re implying, I have a _shred_ of kindness, you’re delusional Potter,” he huffed, his cheeks rosy.

With a hum, Harry grinned at Malfoy. “Of course, I would never.”

“Good,” Malfoy sniffed. “And don’t forget it Scarhead.”

“Merlin,” Harry said through a laugh. “I haven’t heard that nickname for years.”

“Clearly you don’t know anyone as creative as me,” Malfoy smirked.

“I think it’s just that I don’t know anyone as petty as you,” Harry retorted.

“Perhaps it’s both.”

Harry snorted. “Maybe.”

The door chimed and Malfoy glanced up, sighing as he caught sight of who entered. Following his line of sight, Harry glanced at who had just entered and noticed a familiar, little old lady.

“It’s Mrs Drooble,” Malfoy said, noticing Harry watch the old lady. “She’s going to hold me in the clutches of her conversation for the next four hours at least.”

“You make it sound like a death sentence,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

“It might as well be,” Malfoy groaned.

“I’ve spoken to her before, she gave some good advice on baking bread,” Harry reminisced. She had also told him that he and Draco make a wonderful couple, but he wasn’t going to tell him that.

“She talked about this ex of hers, Graham, for two hours once, and how she should have married him instead of Reginald,” Draco replied, gesturing wildly at Harry as if that would get his point across better.

“Gripping,” Harry said, biting his lip.

Malfoy caught Harry trying not to laugh and glared at him. “She’s a powerful witch too, I can’t even pretend to have a kitchen emergency because I can charm the utensils,” he said. “Even if I couldn’t, she would insist on doing it for me.”

“The wonders of customer service,” Harry grinned, finishing another cup of tea.

“You’re a prick Potter,” Malfoy deadpanned, standing up.

“As are you Malfoy,” he replied, not looking up as he poured himself another cup of tea. “And it’s Harry,” he said, offering Malfoy a small smile.

“You’re still an arsehole Harry,” Malfoy smiled, shaking his head. “And if I have to call you Harry, you’re going to suffer too.”

“I _highly_ doubt it causes you pain to say my name Draco.”

“And I _highly_ disagree,” Draco drawled. “Let’s see how long she keeps me occupied.”

“You never know,” Harry sniggered. “Maybe she’ll talk about the wonderfulness of Muggle toothbrushes.”

“Don’t get my hopes up Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> elle est si ennuyeuse papa - she is so boring daddy
> 
> j’ai besoin de parler à potter pendant un moment - i need to talk to potter for a while


	3. samhain

“Uncle Harry!”

Harry stumbled, nearly falling to the floor as Rose tackled him into a hug, jumping into his arms. “Careful Rosie, you’ll send us both to the floor,” he joked, setting her safely onto the ground again.

“Rose, you can’t jump at Harry every time you see him,” Hermione scolded, looking at Harry apologetically.

“But Mum! Uncle Harry _always_ catches me,” Rose complained, kicking at the floor with the sole of her feet.

Hermione sighed. “But what if he didn’t, _or_ you knocked him over?” she asked, kneeling in front of her daughter, and Rose pouted.

“Someone would get hurt,” she admitted, sounding as if she had, had to repeat that phrase many times.

“Now why don’t you go help your Dad and Hugo in the kitchen?” Hermione encouraged.

“But I want to play with Uncle Harry!” she protested, stomping her foot on the ground.

“And Harry will still be here in a few minutes, I just want to talk to him about boring grown-up things.” Those appeared to be the magic words and Harry had to stifle a laugh as Rose groaned and scrunched up her nose.

“That _is_ really boring…” Rose sighed.

“We can play a board game later?” Harry suggested, ruffling Rose’s hair making her giggle.

“Okay!” Rose grinned, running into the kitchen instantly.

Hermione chuckled. “I swear she listens to you more than Ron and me,” she joked, glancing over at Harry who shook his head with a smile. “How are you?” she asked, walking into the living room.

Shrugging, Harry sat on the sofa. “Same as normal,” he said. Hermione frowned, pursing her lips. She looked as if she wanted to say something but was weighing up the pros and cons of speaking her mind. “Don’t look at me like that ‘Mione, just say what’s on your mind.”

“You look happier than usual,” she said bluntly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered with a sigh.

“I don’t mean it like that Harry, I just – you don’t look as tired,” she explained, and Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

It wasn’t as if he had slept more than usual, and the only difference to the past few weeks had been his run-ins with the Malfoys. “I –“

He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry Harry, I’ve put you on the spot,” Hermione said, wincing slightly.

“No, no, it’s fine, I guess I – I hadn’t really noticed,” he admitted. Hermione wasn’t wrong, he was happier. He still hated his job, but he enjoyed his visits to Draco’s teashop – he looked forward to them.

Hermione shot him an exasperated smile. “Honestly Harry,” she shook her head.

Harry grinned sheepishly. “I’m not the most ‘ _intune’_ with my emotions I suppose,” he joked. Draco had mentioned that Harry couldn’t tell a smile from a frown. “Although maybe it’s the peppermint tea,” he said, reliving the memory in his mind with a chuckle.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and Harry smiled.

“Sorry, thinking about something someone told me,” Harry grinned.

Before Hermione could respond, Ron burst through the door, with two children dangling from his arms. “You two are getting too big for this,” he huffed, swinging them through the air and onto the sofa. Shrieks of laughter could be heard from Rose and Hugo as Ron threw himself between the two, sighing loudly. “Hey mate, good to see you,” he said, his eyes half shut.

Harry chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full there,” he said, gesturing to Rose and Hugo who were leaning over Ron.

“Couple of troublemakers if you ask me,” Ron grinned, tickling the two of them. Hermione watched the scene, smiling as if she could watch her family laugh until the last star in the universe exploded.

Rose sat up. “Uncle Harry, can we play that board game now?” she asked, bouncing up and down.

“Board game, board game!” Hugo chanted, clapping his hands together.

Harry glanced at Ron. “Dinner’s only just gone in, it’ll be at least an hour and a half so as long as they don’t pick FrizzlingStacks you should be fine,” Ron shrugged.

“That’s a yes then,” Harry said, laughing as Rose whooped and grabbed her brothers’ hand, dragging him up the stairs so they could pick a game. “Careful Rosie, you’ll run into something,” Harry called after them.

They heard a soft thud in reply, followed by a quick, “I’m okay!”

Ron turned to Harry. “You’ve met someone, haven’t you?” he asked, as soon as Rose and Hugo were completely out of earshot, a spark of something in his eye.

Turning to look at the door, Harry cleared his throat. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I have _met_ someone,” he said. Ron opened his mouth to reply. “He’s a friend Ron,” Harry said pointedly, and Ron sighed, leaning into the sofa as Hermione chuckled.

“I think it’s wonderful that you’ve spoken to someone besides us two,” Hermione said, a smile pulling at her lips as she looked at Ron, as if silently communicating with him.

“Bloody fantastic,” Ron grinned. “You could do with someone else in your life.”

“You two are brilliant – I don’t _need_ other people in my life,” Harry smiled, glancing at the stairs, hoping Rose and Hugo would run down to help him escape the situation.

“You’ve been wallowing in self-pity since you split up with Ginny,” Hermione said nonchalantly.

Harry snapped his head away from the door to look at Hermione. “I have not!” he exclaimed, feeling his anger levels rise as Ron agreed.

“She’s got a point mate,” Ron said apprehensively. “It’s been about seven years and you’ve not been on a date or anything.”

“I don’t _want_ to go on a date,” Harry muttered. “And besides, he’s a friend and nothing more,” he insisted. Even if he did have feelings for Draco, it was unlikely he felt the same. Their friendship was fragile enough.

“Alright,” Hermione said, sipping from her coffee mug. “But just know that if Molly hears about this, she won’t let it go,” she smiled.

Ron chuckled, “She’s right, Mum’ll be a nightmare, you know how she is.”

Harry groaned. Whilst he loved Molly dearly, she did fret about his being single as if it was the only thing that mattered. “What if I don’t want to date anyone?”

“Then she’ll leave you alone,” Ron shrugged. “She did with Charlie anyway.”

“Do you not want to date?” Hermione inquired.

“Yes, no… I don’t know,” Harry muttered, shrinking into the sofa. He wished he had some tea. “I’m not looking for a relationship, but if one happens, then it happens.”

Saving him from the continuation of this awkward conversation, Rose and Hugo burst in through the door, carrying a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes version of Jenga, that explodes as it falls and has other additions such as random wobbling and screeching.

It always left Harry’s ears ringing for the next few hours.

“Is that technically a board game?” Harry asked Hermione in a whisper, hoping she’d say no so he wouldn’t have to play it.

She shrugged. “It’s not played on a board, but… I suppose it is,” she replied, getting up off the sofa to help her two children set up.

Harry wondered how long he’d be able to hear the ringing in his ears this time.

\-----

Harry had always loved this time of year, when nature turned into warm colours, as the temperature began to drop. Perhaps it was because autumn was always the time when he was able to escape the Dursley’s – he knew that they were the reason he hated the summer months anyway.

Even though tomorrow was the thirty-first of October, Harry felt at peace as he walked along the pavement, admiring the scattered Halloween decorations on the houses. Harry remembered when he spent Halloween in America and he was baffled by the frenzy that was caused by Halloween, but it was oddly charming. No one in London is particularly crazed about Halloween except the children who ran from house to house to get free sweets.

The spirit of autumn was hard to miss as he walked into Draco’s teashop. The window displayed an array of pumpkins and tree branches, charmed to stay orange and red, and not to turn brown. The shop still smelt of apples and cardamom, but also there was a faint smell he couldn’t recognise.

“It’s rosemary,” Draco answered, despite Harry not asking a question.

“How did you…?” Harry began, baffled.

Draco smirked. “You’re standing in the middle of the shop, looking rather perplexed.”

“So no different to normal then?” he joked, revelling in Draco’s laugh.

“I suppose not Potter,” Draco grinned, periodically disappearing behind the counter as he prepared the teapot and teacups.

As he was waiting, Harry took another look at the decorations. “Preparing for Halloween tomorrow?” he asked, wondering what the Malfoy Halloween traditions were.

“Samhain,” Draco replied, setting the water to boil.

“You celebrate Samhain?” Harry asked. He knew that Molly had mentioned once that the Prewetts used to celebrate Samhain and she had spent twenty minutes explaining to the room that it’s pronounced ‘ _sou-when_ ,’ not ‘ _sam-hay-n’_.

“You know what Samhain is?” Draco responded, impressed. “Not many do nowadays.”

“I’m no expert, but I know it’s a Celtic/Pagan festival that relates to Halloween,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

“That’s more than most,” Draco said softly, a small smile on his lips. “I’ll just be a moment, we can talk more over tea,” he said, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

He nodded, not trusting his words and wandered to his usual sofa.

After waiting for a few minutes, Draco joined Harry, sitting next to him instead of in his usual position. Harry was certain his heart was about to burst from his chest.

“I used to hate Samhain,” Draco began, pouring Harry a cup of the surprise tea of the day. “But then, the war happened,” he said darkly, starting intently at the cinnamon stick he had just placed in the teacup.

“The war?” Harry asked, wondering how that related to Samhain.

“Do you know what Samhain is about Harry?” Draco asked, handing him the teacup.

Harry shook his head as he took the cup.

“It’s about remembering the dead,” he said bluntly, sipping on his own cup of tea.

“Oh,” Harry said meekly, watching as the gold and red mixture swirled in his teacup.

“That’s why I used to hate it, it seemed so _morbid_ compared to the Muggle celebration, Halloween.” Draco shifted and was now sat on the sofa cross-legged, tilted slightly to look at Harry as he spoke. “Anyway, despite it still being rather morbid, I now understand the need for it.”

Harry nodded, understanding the connection Draco had to Samhain completely. He took a sip of the tea, which tasted of something Harry couldn’t place, warming his soul.

He opened his mouth to ask what the tea was, but Draco, once again, replied before he could ask. “Apple, rosemary and cinnamon.”

“What’s the reasoning behind this tea?”

Draco flushed pink, taking a moment to reply. “The apple represents life and the five elements, rosemary is for remembrance, and,” Draco paused. “Cinnamon is for the home, for family,” he said, turning a darker shade of pink as he spoke.

Harry wasn’t a too dissimilar shade of pink either. “Oh, er, thank you Draco,” he said, unable to contain his smile. He had thought about what it was that Harry would want to remember – his family.

“Stop it,” Draco said, refusing to look at Harry.

“Stop what?” he asked, bemused.

“Thinking I’m kind,” Draco smirked.

“I don’t think I can,” Harry replied, grinning as Draco rolled his eyes. “How do you celebrate Samhain?”

“Scorpius and I spend the day together, my mother doesn’t celebrate, and then we light a candle for those we’ve lost,” he explained, clutching his teacup, taking a deep breath. “It isn’t that exciting compared to how some celebrate it, but Scorpius rather likes our tradition,” he said, smiling to himself. Clearing his throat, Draco shifted in his seat. “Would you,” Draco took another deep breath, tapping the brim of his teacup. “The shop won’t be open tomorrow, and I know you visit on Thursday’s because you don’t want to think about returning to that job you hate.”

“ _How_ do you –“ Harry began.

“ _Shush_ Potter,” Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, what I’m asking is, would you like to join us?” he asked.

Harry blinked. “Are you, I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Harry, _I’m_ the one asking you to join,” Draco said pointedly.

“Still, it feels like a private event,” Harry said, staring at his cup.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Harry, if you don’t join us tomorrow, I will floo to your home and drag you over myself.” Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco continued. “I know you’ll only mope about for the day so you really should at least consider it. You _wouldn’t_ be intruding, I’d want – _we would_ like it if you could make it,” Draco corrected.

“Well then,” Harry said. “It would be an honour,” he said dramatically, grinning.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Honestly Potter,” he said, sounding exhausted, but the smile on his face said otherwise.

As per usual, the two spent the day talking, with Draco disappearing periodically to check on his customers and deal with those who had just walked in. Harry got lost in the moment, forgetting the time entirely until he glanced up and saw it was almost pitch-black outside. This was becoming an incredibly common occurrence; it was difficult for Harry to focus on anything other than the slight features of Draco’s face and the grace with which he moved, even when he was darting from customer to customer.

“It’s dark out,” Harry said when Draco returned from the till. He was now the only person left in the shop besides Draco.

“An amazing observation Potter, I can see why you’re an Auror,” Draco drawled.

“ _Ha ha_ ,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps my lack of observational skills are why I hate being an Auror,” he joked, leaning back into the sofa.

“Or maybe you were born to be a professional tea taster, and that’s why,” Draco suggested, grinning as Harry laughed.

“I know you’re teasing me but, even though I’d be shit at it, it would be so much better,” he sighed, lifting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know, I know, and I’m – _thinking about it_ ,” Harry insisted. They’d had this conversation many times over the past few hours. Draco had never pushed Harry, although his opinion on the matter was exceedingly clear.

Draco stared at him with a small frown for a few seconds longer, before standing. “I hate to kick you out, but I need to close. If I’m late to pick up Scorpius, my mother will begin to fret about my whereabouts,” Draco said, sounding as if he wanted to stay open a little while longer.

“I get it, Molly’s the same,” Harry shrugged. “You should have seen her reaction when George was late to Sunday dinner, I thought she was about to _accio_ him there.”

That made Draco chuckle. “She’s a terrifying woman too, I imagine she gave George quite the earful.”

“She did,” Harry grinned, standing to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Harry.”

“See you then Draco.”

\-----

“Harry!” Scorpius exclaimed as he opened the door. “You’re here!” He grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him inside.

Harry bit back a chuckle, stumbling slightly as the eight-year-old bounced up and down. Before he could respond, Scorpius continued, “I’m glad you said you’d celebrate with us,” Scorpius grinned. “Dad gets lonely during Samhain, he thinks he’s great at hiding it, but he’s not.” He suddenly came to a halt, and once again, Harry stumbled, trying not to fall over Scorpius. “Shoes!” he exclaimed, dragging Harry back to the door.

“Shoes?” Harry asked, finding it difficult to follow along with Scorpius’ thought process. He was still trying to process what Scorpius said about Draco being lonely.

“You have to take off your shoes,” the blond nodded. He looked around and beckoned Harry to lean closer. “Dad _always_ tells me off when I forget to,” he whispered.

Nodding, Harry untied his laces. “Well, I suppose I’d better take my shoes off then.”

Unsurprisingly, they lived right above the teashop, and the apartment was a lot bigger than Harry had assumed it would be. There were vases filled with wildflowers on every surface and the windows let in the golden light of autumn, illuminating everything it could. The walls were a cream colour, and the floors were made of a rich brown wood. There were photos scattered across the walls and on certain surfaces, containing pictures of the two of them smiling widely. Some contained people he distantly recognised to be Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, and a few also contained Mrs Malfoy.

Harry could see that this apartment was loved. He could see it in the collection of random Muggle items and objects bought from antique stores or from places they went on holiday. He could see it in the crayon drawings pinned to the walls and even from the shoe cupboard where shoes had been carelessly shoved away to make the place look tidy.

It was a home where a family lived.

The sound of feet on the stairs caught Harry’s attention, and he glanced over to see Draco, who was wearing a brown turtleneck and jeans. It was odd to see Draco looking so incredibly Muggle.

He had also changed the colour of his hair overnight.

“Harry,” Draco smiled. “So, it _was_ you at the door,” he said. “And you’re _still_ taking your shoes off?” he smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the banister.

Blinking multiple times, Harry forced himself to look away from Draco, and as he got past the fact that Draco had taken Harry’s suggestion of having emerald green hair, he managed to form a reply. “I’m sure we’ve already established somewhere that I’m not the brightest,” he joked, and heard Draco chuckle.

“Dad always tells me I’m the brightest étoile,” Scorpius boasted, smiling proudly.

Harry grinned, though he was unsure what an ‘ _étoile’_ was. “And I’m sure he’s right,” he said.

“ _Of course_ I’m right, I’m always right,” Draco said, embracing Scorpius in a sideways hug and kissing his forehead.

Scorpius scrunched up his nose. “No, you’re not, you said Harry was annoying, but _I_ think he’s really nice,” he said, walking away from the two of them to sit on the sofa. Harry and Draco looked at each other.

Suppressing a laugh, Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco who shrugged, his cheeks rosy. “I don’t think he meant it,” he said to Scorpius, joining him in the living area. He grinned as he saw Draco roll his eyes, certain that he saw Draco mutter something along the lines of ‘ _I definitely did’_. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Cake!” Scorpius exclaimed with a grin, as Draco chuckled, sitting next to his son.

“Cake?” Harry asked Draco, grinning.

“He’s decided to test your baking ability,” Draco explained, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Scorpius nodded, as if this was a serious competition. “You have to bake a cake on Samhain.”

“I haven’t baked for years,” Harry reminisced.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you,” Scorpius said wisely, and Harry bit back his laughter, replacing it with a cough when he noticed Draco glaring at him, as if challenging him to laugh at his son.

Scorpius continued to explain the basic safety of baking a cake and Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that at the age of twenty-nine, he did already know the basics of safety in the kitchen. Instead, he tried his hardest not to stare at Draco. It is, of course, completely normal to find your friend so exceedingly attractive that every time you glance at them, you feel as if your heart is about to beat out from within your chest.

It was impossible _not_ to stare – for a little while at least.

‘It had to be the hair,’ Harry reasoned with himself, content to live a life of denial.

Which was when Draco turned his head and caught Harry staring. They both went slightly pink, but Draco (‘the git,’ Harry thought to himself) smirked, ignoring Harry and turning his attention back to Scorpius, who had decided that practising his magic by levitating small objects on the coffee table was more interesting than kitchen safety (Harry couldn’t blame him).

“You’re getting better at that ma petite étoile,” Draco said softly, kissing Scorpius’ temple.

Grinning, the blond forgot to focus on the small coin, and it flew past Harry’s ear, missing him by a sliver. Scorpius cringed. “Sorry Harry,” he apologised.

Harry chuckled. “It’s okay,” he said, knowing it would be hypocritical of him to say anything else. “I’m no stranger to accidental magic. When I was just a bit older than you, I accidentally set a python on my cousin.”

Draco let out a burst of laughter. “You did what?” he asked, amused. Scorpius was also intrigued.

“Well, at the time I didn’t know _anything_ about magic, so I definitely didn’t know I was a Parseltongue,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “We went to the zoo for my cousin’s birthday, he wasn’t the nicest bloke,” Harry said. He didn’t speak about the Dursley’s much anymore; it felt weird to relive this memory. “Anyway, to cut the story short, I was speaking to this snake and my cousin made me angry, next thing I knew, the glass had vanished, and the snake was snapping at my cousin’s ankles,” he shrugged.

Scorpius was staring at Harry in awe. He hoped it was because he could speak to snakes and not because he set one on his cousin. Draco, on the other hand, looked as if he was about to explode into a fit of giggles.

“Golden boy Potter,” Draco said with a small smile, shaking his head.

Rolling his eyes, Harry shrank into the sofa. “ _Merlin_ , don’t –“

“I cannot believe you set a _python_ on someone,” Draco interrupted, ignoring Harry, who continued to shrink into the sofa as Scorpius giggled. “Thank Merlin we weren’t friends before now, you would have been a terrible influence on Scorpius.”

“Hey!” Harry laughed. “I’ll have you know; I’ve been a wonderful influence on all _three_ of my Godchildren,” he announced, leaning forwards.

“Where Granger and Andromeda were also influencing them?” Draco asked, making eye contact with Harry, who couldn’t help but blush. Smiling sheepishly at Draco, he ducked his head slightly under the amused gaze of the Malfoy.

“You’d be an amazing Dad,” Scorpius remarked, grinning at Harry, completely unaware of the implications of what he just said.

Stumbling over his words for a response, Harry managed to say, “Thank you Scorpius,” before quickly trying to change the subject and failing, as Draco decided to join his son.

“You would be,” Draco murmured, avoiding Harry’s gaze as well as Harry was avoiding his – which is to say, rather badly.

After a moment of silence, where Harry was certain his heartbeat was audible to both of the Malfoy’s, he decided to break the silence. “So, when are we going to bake this cake?”

\-----

“Harry, no!” Scorpius giggled, shaking his head as Harry pretended to not know how to whisk cake batter. “That’s not how you do it,” he said, looking at his father as if he was exasperated. Draco brought a hand up to his lips to hide a smile, but it was clear that he wanted to laugh at Harry’s antics. “Here, _I’ll_ show you how to do it.”

Scorpius grabbed the whisk with both hands and slowly began to stir the mixture. “Ah, I see,” Harry nodded. “You’re very good at that,” Harry said, smiling at the blond child.

“Daddy taught me what to do,” Scorpius said proudly. “He’s the best,” he said, and Harry noticed Draco’s expression soften as he pulled his son into a side hug, lightly kissing his temple.

“It’s nice to know my efforts are appreciated,” Draco grinned, taking the whisk from Scorpius. “I’ll take it from here mon cœur, why don’t you go and put the cupcake cases in the tray.”

“Ok,” Scorpius said, jumping from the stepping stool and skipping across the kitchen.

Once he was pre-occupied with the cupcake cases, Draco turned to look at Harry. “I know what you’re doing Potter,” he muttered, suppressing a smile.

Harry feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, shooting a smile at Draco as he leaned against the counter.

Humming in amused agreement, Draco shook his head. “I’m certain you don’t,” he chuckled. “Thank you, I haven’t seen him this excited in a while.”

“ _Dad,”_ Scorpius groaned, sitting at the table. “Are you done yet?”

Laughing, Draco placed the bowl of batter on the table. “Try not to get too much on the table.”

“You got the best job,” Harry said, leaning towards Scorpius. “You can secretly eat the cake batter,” he whispered, smiling as Scorpius looked as if he had just been told the secret of the universe.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You _cannot_ eat the batter, it’s not good for you” he said to Scorpius who pouted. “And you Scarhead, stop influencing my son,” Draco scolded, hitting Harry on the shoulder, making him laugh.

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible influence, you’ve said,” Harry grinned. When Draco wasn’t looking, he stuck his finger in the batter, winking at Scorpius who giggled.

He walked to the other side of the kitchen, where Draco was, and leaned against the counter once more, watching Draco charm the bowls and cutlery to wash themselves in the soapy water.

“How are you so good with children?” Draco whispered, leaning towards Harry as Scorpius was patiently scooping the mixture into the cupcake cases.

Harry chuckled, leaning towards Draco as well. “Hermione says it’s why people find me attractive,” he said, flashing a grin at Draco.

“Well, I’d have to agree,” Draco muttered.

Harry almost dropped the spoon he was holding. “What?” he squeaked, as Draco laughed at Harry’s reaction.

“You’re doing brilliantly mon cœur,” he said to Scorpius, leaving Harry stunned.

“ _Malfoy, you bloody annoying git_ ,” Harry grumbled quietly before re-joining them.

As he approached the table, Harry noticed the light from the setting sun illuminate Draco’s hair, making it shimmer as if it was laced with gold; it was exaggerated as his head shook with laughter. His green hair only made his eyes look warmer, accentuating every fleck of yellow and brown hidden within the grey. The soft smile that graced his lips made Harry’s stomach do a flip and it was at that moment he realised he was completely, and utterly, fucked.

Turning to look at Harry, Draco furrowed his eyebrows as they made eye contact. “Are you alright?” he asked, his concern only succeeding in making Harry’s realisation hit harder.

After a moment, he shook his head slightly, pulling his thoughts together. “Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly strained. “Sorry, déjà vu,” he lied, smiling at the two Malfoys, who both shared similar looks of concern.

“Are you sure? You look slightly – ashen,” Draco asked again, placing his hand on Harry’s arm. The contact should have made Harry flinch, but he found himself relaxing into the touch.

“I’m sure,” Harry managed to say, deciding to change the conversation, quickly. “Those cupcakes look good,” he said, happy when the diversion worked.

Scorpius beamed. “I didn’t spill anything,” he said, tilting his chin up in pride. “Not on the table, anyway,” he admitted, gesturing to his shirt which was not only covered in flour, but somehow cake batter.

“They look wonderful ma petite étoile,” Draco said with a smile, picking up the tray. “I’m sure these will taste amazing,” he said, putting them in the oven. “I’ll call you when they’re done, if you’d like to go play.”

That was all the incentive Scorpius needed apparently, as he darted out of the kitchen, excitedly chatting about his toy dragon collection. Harry had a feeling he was going to have the honour of meeting those dragons at some point today.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Draco asked, jolting Harry from his thoughts. As he’d been daydreaming, it seemed that Draco had boiled a kettle.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “Depends, what’s the tea?” he asked, enjoying the way Draco’s mouth curled in an amused smile.

“Just boring regular tea I’m afraid, the rest is all downstairs,” he called over his shoulder, pulling the jar from the shelf.

“I suppose that will do,” Harry said solemnly, chuckling when Draco raised an eyebrow.

“You, Potter, are a right git, you know that?” he said, sounding annoyed, but his expression showed a fondness that made his knees weak, so much so, that Harry was glad he was sat down.

He laughed. “Shockingly, you’ve said before,” Harry mused, accepting the tea from Draco. The smell of apples and cinnamon began to fill the air as the cakes baked. “What is it with you and cinnamon?”

“Apples, actually,” Draco grinned. “Cinnamon tends to go beautifully with apples.”

“You’re an apple fiend then?” Harry grinned.

Draco raised his eyebrows, stifling a laugh. “I suppose so,” he said.

“So, what’s this about me being attractive?” Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

Draco’s face went bright pink, and he took a rather long sip from his teacup. “I’d say it’s rather common knowledge,” he said, avoiding Harry’s amused gaze.

“Knowledge, and not your opinion?” Harry asked, trying his best to suppress a laugh as Draco went from pink to red.

“Obviously,” Draco muttered, once again taking a long sip from his teacup.

Revelling in the idea of Draco falling just as hard as he was, Harry grinned like an idiot, which quickly turned into laughter as Draco looked at Harry as if he had entirely lost the plot. Perhaps he had.

“If you’re just going to laugh –“

“ _No_ , no” Harry interrupted, smiling into his hand. “Sorry, it’s just, I don’t think you know how effortlessly attractive you are,” he admitted, biting back a smile as Draco looked bemused. He watched as the realisation dawned upon his face and his cheeks went rosy.

Pulling them from the moment, the timer went off, causing them both to jump. With a flick of his wrist, Draco stopped the timer and turned the oven off, turning his attention back to Harry. His mind suddenly becoming blank, Harry looked towards Draco’s wrist, trying to examine the flowers and figure out what kind of flower they were.

As Draco noticed Harry staring, he began rubbing the tattoo, a grim smile pulling at his features. Once again, he answered the question on Harry’s mind before he even got the change to ask it. “They’re Narcissus flowers, after –“

“Your mother,” Harry finished, reaching out to brush his fingers over the tattoo.

Draco smiled; it was a small smile, as if he had just witnessed a private joke occur. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft as a wool. “She wasn’t pleased about the idea, I think she blamed herself for my situation,” Draco explained, still rubbing his thumb over the delicate flowers as they swayed slightly, as if someone has blown upon them. “But she was the only person I wished to live for at the time,” he said, his face still.

With a feeling tugging at his heart, Harry gently clasped Draco’s hand. “I hope you find there’s more worth living for now,” he said, smiling as best he could.

Chuckling, Draco moved his hand slightly, never letting go, and tangled their fingers together. “I do,” he smiled. “Astoria, she taught me that there’s more to this life then the mistakes we made, as long as we’re willing to change for the better,” he said, staring intently at the tattoo. “I can’t expect forgiveness from others, but I can strive for indifference.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Harry said, trying to ignore the feelings of jealousy for this mysterious woman.

“She was,” Draco admitted. “She’s Scorpius’ mother,” he explained, and suddenly the use of past tense made sense.

It hit Harry like a bucket of cold ice water.

Before he could express any form of condolences, Draco continued. “It was an arranged marriage, one of the last things my father ‘ _achieved_ ’ before he died,” he explained, still holding Harry’s hand. “I could never love her the way I was expected to, and she knew that. Instead, she became my best friend,” he said, smiling weakly at Harry. “She helped me to see the reasons to continue existing, all the reasons why I deserve to be happy. She was the one who came up with the idea of starting a teashop you know.” Draco shivered; his eyes glazed over.

Taking his hand between his own two hands, Harry squeezed it tightly, to let Draco know he was there. “I bet you miss her a lot,” Harry said, as Draco nodded.

“Some days more than others I’ll admit,” he sighed. “The times I miss her the most are when I see her in Scorpius. The way he finds the good in everyone, how he thinks animals are better company than people, the way he smiles.”

“She’d be so happy with the man you’ve become, and with the way you’ve raised Scorpius,” Harry said strongly.

“You think so?” Draco asked, unsure. He looked so vulnerable that Harry wanted nothing more than to give him a hug.

Harry nodded, smiling. “I might have not known her, but I believe she would be,” he grinned, feeling light in his chest as Draco grinned back.

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco said sincerely. They held eye contact for a minute, but it felt like longer, until Scorpius came bounding into the kitchen, holding a stuffed dragon that was almost half the size of him.

“Dad! Daddy!” Scorpius exclaimed, trying his best not to jump up and down. “Are they ready yet?” he asked, his eyes so filled with excitement, that his father laughed.

“I was just about to take them out of the oven mon cœur,” Draco smiled, brushing his son’s hair from his eyes. “They’ll have to cool before we can eat them, so why don’t you take Harry into the lounge and show him what your Dragon can do?” he encouraged, looking at Harry as if asking him to ask Scorpius himself.

Nodding, Scorpius grabbed Harry’s hand and began pulling him out of the kitchen. “His name is Ladon,” Scorpius began to explain, and Draco shot Harry an apologetic look, but Harry could see him suppress a laugh at Harry’s bemused expression, replacing it with a cough.

“Why Ladon?” Harry asked, as they walked across the apartment.

“Ladon was the dragon that guarded the golden apples in the Gardens of _Hes_ \- _heper-_.” Scorpius scrunched his nose as he tried to say the word. “ _Hes – per – idees,”_ he said slowly, carefully annunciating each word, smiling proudly as he managed to say it.

He sat down on the floor and patted the space in front of him, smiling at Harry.

“Does this Landon guard golden apples too?” Harry asked, sitting where Scorpius had gestured.

Scorpius giggled. “No silly, he’s much too small.”

Harry nodded as if that was obvious. “Ah, of course, I see it now.”

“This Ladon guards something much more important,” the blond said, his tone serious. He leaned towards Harry. “He guards the cakes Daddy makes,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder as if to check they hadn’t been overheard.

“Much more important,” Harry grinned, unable to stop himself. “Is that what your Dad wanted you to show me?” he asked, certain that it wasn’t.

With a wide grin, Scorpius shook his head. “ _Volant,_ ” Scorpius whispered to the dragon, and, as if awaking from a prolonged slumber, the toy dragon seemed to blink, stretching his wings and shaking himself from head to tail. The green scales became metallic looking and shimmered with a red tinge that made it impossible for Harry not to be impressed by this toy.

And then, the dragon stretched his wings and took to the air, flying in circles around the room. Sitting in silence, Scorpius watched the dragon glide across the room, his head moving to follow the direction of the dragon.

“Dad charmed him,” Scorpius explained, still watching the dragon as he perched on a shelf before taking off again.

“That’s incredibly complex magic,” Harry said in awe. “It’s brilliant,” he grinned.

The door to the living room creaked open slightly, and Draco waltzed in, looking particularly smug. Harry was mildly amused when the dragon almost collided with his head. “Why thank you Potter,” Draco smirked, joining them on the floor. “It’s good to see you can finally admit to my superior skills,” he joked, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I may have been awful at charms, but I was the best at defence,” Harry retaliated, snorting as Draco raised his eyebrows. “Besides, George has been trying to get word activated charms to work on objects for years, he couldn’t quite figure it out,” Harry said. He remembered the meals at the Burrow where George would complain about how it ‘ _really shouldn’t be this difficult’_ , and then dinners with Ron and Hermione where Ron would complain about George complaining.

“It’s a Malfoy family secret,” Scorpius replied, and Draco nodded along with him.

“Top secret,” Draco said, trying not to laugh as he made eye contact with Harry.

Chuckling, Harry looked at the dragon, just in time to see it land on Draco’s head. The other two laughed, as Draco picked up the dragon, whispering to him. “ _Somnum_ ,” he muttered, and the dragon curled up, as if falling asleep. He passed the toy back to his son who clutched Ladon close to his chest, smiling at his father.

“You know,” Harry said, smirking at Draco. “You might be better at charms, but there is one thing I’m good at,” he said, sitting up straight. He muttered an incantation under his breath and a stag burst forth from his wand.

He heard Draco scoff and turned his head to see a small smile on Draco’s face. “Show off,” Draco muttered, nudging Harry’s foot with his own.

“Wow,” Scorpius said, his eyes fixed on the stag as it approached the small blond. “Can I pet him?” he asked excitedly.

Harry felt his heart melt. “He’s technically only made of smoke, _but_ you should feel something if you place your hand close, like this,” Harry said, moving his hand over the neck of the stag.

As Scorpius was trying his best to pet the stag, Draco began to laugh. “I can’t believe your Patronus is still a stag,” he said, and Harry shrugged.

“It’s the one thing that I don’t think will ever change,” he admitted. He hoped it was true.

His Patronus was one of the few connections he had with his father.

“My Dad,” Harry said softly, catching Draco’s attention. “He was an illegal Animagus,” he said.

“Why am I not surprised,” Draco replied with a chuckle, making Harry smile.

“They all were, Sirius, my Dad, Pettigrew,” Harry continued. “To help Remus with his monthly transformations. My Dad’s Animagus form was a stag,” he said, smiling at the whisps of smoke and Scorpius’ laughter. “Sometimes, it feels as though it’s a part of my Dad, the Patronus, and he’s still trying as best he can to protect me.”

Draco placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “He would have loved to see the person you’ve become,” he said, smiling warmly. “As would your mother.”

“Thanks,” he said, shaking his head as if that would remove the sad feelings. He changed the topic very quickly. “Do you know what form your Patronus takes?” he asked, and Draco sighed.

“You’re going to laugh,” he grimaced, burying his face in his hands.

Harry grinned. “I promise I won’t,” he lied.

Taking a deep breath, Draco sat up straight. “It’s, _Merlin_ – it’s a peacock,” he said, refusing to look at Harry, who was grinning like a man who had won the lottery.

“ _No way,”_ Harry whisper exclaimed, biting his lip so hard, it was almost bleeding.

“I _said_ you’d laugh,” Draco complained, his face turning pink.

“And I’m not!” Harry insisted, despite laughing. Composing himself, Harry smiled at Draco. “I think it suits you actually,” he said.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. “You do?” he asked, his eyes quickly darting to Scorpius as he squealed but he quickly brought his focus back to Harry when he saw it was only because the stag shook his head. “Why?”

Nodding, Harry drifted closer to Draco. “They’re incredibly beautiful,” Harry said, trying not to grin as he saw Draco’s eyes widen and he looked away.

The older Malfoy was still bemused when Scorpius ran up to him and tackled him into a hug. “Dad! Dad!” Scorpius beamed, his smile pushing at his face in a way that made it seem permanent. “The – the - it’s - le cerf est si joli, est-ce qu-on peut le garder? S'il te plaît,” he asked, looking pleadingly at his father.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works trésor,” Draco replied, looking a little flushed, avoiding Harry’s eye. “Quand Harry s'en va, le cerf s’en ira aussi,” he said, stroking his son’s hair out of his face. Harry perked up at his name, but he knew absolutely no French.

Scorpius looked contemplative for a moment. “Then Harry can stay with us,” he proposed, as if he was announcing the meaning of life.

Draco and Harry glanced at each other. Harry knew a relationship isn’t what Scorpius meant, but that is exactly where his mind went; by the blush on Draco’s cheeks, he assumed Draco had the same thought. His stomach jolted at the prospect. “Scorpius –“ Draco began.

“Do you mean like a sleepover Scorpius?” Harry asked, hoping to avoid some confusion and possible embarrassment.

Scorpius nodded, turning to look at Harry. “But every day,” he said, smiling. “Because you’re nice and you make Daddy smile,” he added with an adorable innocence that melted Harry’s heart.

Unable to respond, Harry looked at Draco, as if asking ‘ _how do you tell an eight-year-old why you can’t live with them forever.’_

Thankfully, Draco appeared to have an idea to distract him. “The cupcakes should have cooled by now mon cœur, do you want to go and get one?”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up. “Yes!” he exclaimed, darting from the room.

“Don’t run!” Draco and Harry called out at the same time, bursting into laughter afterwards. “Merlin, tu seras ma mort,” Draco muttered, a grin plastered on his face as he looked at Harry, who felt his stomach flip at the warmth in the Malfoy’s eyes.

Breaking eye contact, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “I had no idea you could speak French,” he said, sparing a quick glance at Draco, only to feel his face flush as Draco pushed his green hair from his forehead, watching Harry with amusement.

Draco hummed. “I’ve always spoken it,” he explained, stretching his arms in front of him before leaning his back against the sofa. “We were just always arguing,” he grinned, as Harry rolled his eyes. “I muttered a lot of my frustrations around you in French.”

“That’ll be why I never knew I suppose,” Harry said, joining Draco in leaning against the sofa. “I was never close enough to hear you speak it,” he said, closing his eyes and listening to Draco’s soft chuckle.

“You’re an idiot Potter, you should have known. My mother is a Black, and Black’s are French, _somewhere in the bloodline anyway_ ,” Draco said, gently shoving Harry with his shoulder. “Surely your Godfather told you this?” he asked, unsure of himself, but Harry saw him relax when he chuckled.

“If I’m honest, he might have done, but he didn’t like talking about his family,” Harry shrugged, and Draco nodded.

“I understand the feeling,” he muttered, his hand brushing over Harry’s, who felt a tingle pass through his entire arm, like static.

“Did you –“ Harry began, unsure how to approach the subject. “Did you see much of your Dad before he…” Harry trailed off.

“Died?” Draco finished, with an amused smile. “I think I saw my Father once, at my hearing,” he sighed, turning to look at Harry, resting his cheek on the sofa. “I don’t miss him either. I know I probably should, even just a little, but I really don’t.”

Harry shrugged. “People ask me if I miss my Aunt and Uncle, tell me I should.”

“But you don’t?” Draco supplied.

Harry chuckled, moving a stray strand of hair from Draco’s face subconsciously. “I really don’t.”

As Harry realised what he did, he felt his heart flutter from his chest to his throat; a blush creeped upon his face, and he saw Draco had the same reaction. Before Harry could come up with a good excuse, or any excuse at all, Scorpius entered the room with a plate of un-iced cupcakes, and Harry had never been more relieved to see a child. “We forgot to make _icing_ ,” Scorpius sulked, placing the plate on the coffee table, blissfully unaware.

With a soft chuckle, Draco sat up and gestured for Scorpius to sit between him and Harry. “Would you like to make some icing mon cœur?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his son’s hair.

Scorpius pondered the idea for a moment, before looking at Harry. “What do you think Harry?” he asked, as if they were discussing matters of national security.

Harry chuckled before he too pondered the idea of waiting for the cakes to be iced. “I don’t think I can wait, can you?” he grinned, watching as Scorpius grinned at him too.

“You’re both _incredibly_ impatient,” Draco huffed, with a smile.

“It’s endearing Draco, admit it,” Harry teased. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

Harry felt a gentle pull at on his sleeve and noticed Scorpius was looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed. “What does ‘ _endearing_ ’ mean?” he asked.

“You use it when describing a reason to be loved or liked,” Harry explained, and Scorpius made an ‘ _O’_ shape with his mouth as he understood.

“So is my dragon endearing?” Scorpius asked, beaming at Harry, who’s eyes flickered to Draco.

As they made eye contact, Harry nodded. “He is incredibly endearing.”

Draco blushed a deep crimson and shot Harry a playful glare.

The rest of the day was filled with apple and cinnamon cupcakes and laughter. Harry couldn’t help but stare at Draco and he also couldn’t help smiling whenever he got caught. He noticed that Draco couldn’t help but smile either. Scorpius began to hum a tune that Harry vaguely recognised, and Draco, noticing that they were both humming along to each other, pulled out a record and began to play the song. The three of them danced around the living room and Scorpius’ giggles mixed with Draco’s carefree laughter made Harry realise how at home he felt.

When darkness began to spill into the apartment, the laughter turned melancholy as the time for remembrance drew closer, but as Draco left to gather the candles Scorpius grabbed Harry’s hand. “It’s okay if you get sad,” he assured, and Harry felt a strong urge to hug the small blond. “I get sad sometimes, but I’m glad we do it because I don’t want to forget my Mum.”

Harry kneeled in front of Scorpius. “I don’t think you’d forget her Scorp’, I haven’t forgotten my Mum, and I’m almost thirty,” Harry pointed out, hoping to ease Scorpius’ fears.

The blond nodded. “That _is_ old,” he said thoughtfully, though Harry was unsure how he felt about being called old. “Thanks Harry,” Scorpius said, jumping from his seat to give Harry a hug.

“Anytime kiddo,” Harry said softly with a smile, ruffling Scorpius’ hair.

Scorpius giggled. “You’re funny,” he said.

“I’d better be,” Harry grinned. “I think it might be the only reason your Dad keeps me around,” he whispered to Scorpius, who fell into another fit of giggles.

“That’s entirely untrue,” Draco announced, walking to the middle of the room. Harry almost entirely lost his balance and fell to the floor. “I keep you around for your name, it’s very good for business,” he drawled, smirking as Harry rolled his eyes.

The ritual for Samhain left Harry feeling more at peace than he imagined it would. After lighting his candle, it was as though all his anguish and the pain of loss had lessened slightly. It was always there, and after so much loss in his life, Harry doubted it would ever truly go away, but he hadn’t felt so light for years.

“It’s strange,” Harry said to Draco, as Scorpius had fallen asleep on the sofa. “Halloween is usually a time where I feel guilty for being happy when I should be remembering my parents,” Harry explained quietly, so as not to wake Scorpius. “But today, I celebrated Samhain and I felt happy, and I felt sad too I suppose, for a moment, but not guilty.”

“Your parents wouldn’t want you to grief their death every year, but remembering it is different to grieving it,” Draco said, lacing his hand with Harry’s.

“I suppose so,” Harry said sleepily, leaning into Draco’s touch.

And Harry fell asleep to the soft sounds of Draco’s records and his breathing.


	4. a little push

_Hi Uncle Harry!_

_It’s Teddy, your favourite Godchild (you don’t have to admit it, but we know it’s true). The Halloween Feast was amazing, just like you said it would be, but I missed your hot chocolate, the one where you add too many marshmallows and some cinnamon._

_To be honest, I think I just miss you. I felt really really homesick for a moment, like I did in September. I think it’s because of how much you love Autumn._

_Anyway, Hagrid invited me for tea the other day, and I kind of wish I’d sent a letter to you beforehand as you’d have probably told me to avoid the rock cakes (Madam Pomphrey says my tooth should be fixed in the next day or two). Fang almost knocked me over when I saw him, and Hagrid told me a lot about my Dad, Remus, when he was my age._

_Did you know Hagrid used to meet with him regularly? Like, every week kind of regularly? He knows a lot about him. It was weird for someone to be so willing to talk about my Dad. I don’t think anyone, other than you, has ever told me much about him._

_I can’t wait until Christmas. I promise I’ll go into more detail when I see you again. Writing it in a letter doesn’t feel right._

_If you see them, tell Rosie and Hugh I said hi! It’s really weird not seeing them every Sunday at the Burrow. Tell Rosie she’d better not have continued the story without me, she’ll know what I mean._

_I miss and love you lots Uncle Harry_

_Teddy_

\-----

Harry woke up, although rather reluctantly, the day after Samhain. Even though he wished he could have stayed with the Malfoys (and Draco had offered), he knew if he didn’t return to Grimmauld Place he would never have gone to work, and, for the first time in a while, he knew exactly what he wanted to do; he wanted to resign, to quit being an Auror

He wasn’t sure when he knew for certain that he’d quit. Perhaps it was related to Draco and Scorpius or maybe it was because Teddy was at Hogwarts and he wanted to spend more time with his Godchild.

It was most likely a mixture of things.

The main point was he’d realised he needed to quit.

When Harry had finished his day, feeling both relieved and slightly exhausted, he arrived home to see Genevieve (Teddy’s owl), perched on a chair in his kitchen, a letter tied to her leg.

He smiled as he read the letter, understanding what Teddy was feeling. He missed him too.

When Teddy had first left for Hogwarts, Harry had been left feeling lost, alone and unsure of what he should be doing. A few weeks after Teddy’s departure, Ron noticed that Harry was drifting, slowly, into a zombie-like state and his lack of, well, anything, scared everyone for a moment.

That is, until Teddy had been sent a letter. Andromeda had insisted afterwards that they keep their regular meetings, completely unrelated to Harry’s emotional state, supposedly – though Harry knew that wasn’t the case.

Harry quickly wrote a reply.

_I’m glad you’re doing well Ted (I have no favourites… but if I did, and I’m not saying I do, it might be you). I would definitely have recommended staying away from the rock cakes – they’re quite the hazard._

_It’s been incredibly quiet without you around – the Burrow isn’t quite as energetic – and of course I’ll tell Rosie and Hugh you miss them. I miss you too, and I can’t wait to see you at Christmas, I look forward to hearing about your time at Hogwarts. There’s also a lot I want to get your opinion on, to see how you’d feel about it._

_Would you like to stay with me over the Christmas? I’ll ask Andromeda to see how she feels about it, I plan on seeing her sometime soon, but I wanted to ask you how you would feel about it._

_I’ll talk to you soon Teddy._

_I love you_

_Uncle Harry_

Deciding to write the letter to Andromeda before he forgot, he asked if she would like to meet for a cup of tea. He sent Teddy’s letter with Genevieve and his own owl, Cyrus, with Andromeda’s.

He had barely managed to sit down at the kitchen table when there was a soft tapping at the window. It was Andromeda’s reply, which was a lot quicker than Harry was expecting. It was possible that she had received a letter too and felt rather lonely.

_Harry_

_I would be delighted to join you for a cup of tea. As it so happens, I was about to write you when your letter arrived._

_I’ll take the floo at around four o’clock._

_See you soon_

_Andromeda_

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry noticed it was almost four o’clock. Without wasting another second, he quickly rummaged around the kitchen, in an effort to make tea that would be ready as Andromeda arrived.

He set the kettle on the stove, sitting on the table, his feet on the chair as he watched the fire beneath the kettle. It flickered, the flames licking the sides. Ever since Hogwarts, where he had become used to seeing a lit fireplace in the common room, there was a comfort in fire, so long as it was contained.

As the whistle blew on the kettle, the fireplace roared into life; green flames swirling and twisting up the chimney as Andromeda stepped from within the fire into the kitchen. “Harry dear?” she called out, using her wand to remove the soot from her robes.

“Just here,” Harry said, smiling as she turned her head to see him removing the kettle from the stove. “Still only one sugar?” he asked, pouring the boiling water through into two cups. Whilst he may have become Draco’s tea-taster, Harry still had no idea how to make tea in the fancy way he did and tended to stick to tea bags.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, smiling as Harry placed the two cups of tea on the side, before enveloping Harry in a warm hug. “It’s good to see you Harry,” she said.

Returning the hug, Harry replied, “It’s good to see you too Andie.”

Andromeda was paler than the last time he’d seen her, with her dark brown curls appearing as if they were black. Though there was no need for concern; every winter she became paler from the lack of sunlight. Harry assumed it was a Black trait as not only was Teddy the same, but he had found photos of Sirius when he was younger and noticed he was a lot more tanned than when he had been living at Grimmauld Place. She still held herself with the grace of a Black too, something Harry found similar to the effortless elegance Draco had, and on occasion Sirius too.

“It’s been a while since we last spoke,” Andromeda said, as they wandered into the living room. Harry passed her the cup of tea. “We might have a lot to talk about,” she said, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth as they sat down.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, but she wasn’t exactly wrong; there was a lot on his mind. “I suppose we might,” he said, smiling as she passed him a teacup. “Thanks,” he grinned, sipping on the tea.

He missed Draco’s tea.

“How was France?” he asked, sitting next to her on the sofa.

Andromeda sighed. “Quite dull,” she said. “The weather was worse there than it was here. If it wasn’t for rain protection charms, I’d have been stuck inside for the entire month,” she said, balancing the tea on her lap. “I’m not sure how Muggles do it.”

“Umbrellas,” Harry said candidly, grinning when she looked at him exasperated.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it young man,” she chastised, swatting the side of his head.

Harry chuckled. “It’s probably because they don’t know magic exists,” he theorised with a shrug.

“Anyway, how are you dear?” she asked, a warmth in her voice. It had never been intended, but after the war, Andromeda had become a motherly figure to Harry, like Molly had. Neither of them noticed it until Teddy asked why Harry didn’t call Andromeda ‘Mum’.

Harry felt his heart rise to his throat. “I –“ he began, swallowing down his fear and his anxieties on the idea. “I’m thinking of quitting my job,” he said quietly, bringing the teacup up to his mouth, as if he would be able to hide behind it.

“Oh,” she said, appearing a little startled. “You –“

“I say I’m thinking about it, but I’ve signed all the paperwork, I just have to hand it in,” Harry interrupted, letting her know he was being genuine. “My boss has never looked so relieved,” he chuckled.

“You never seemed to really like it,” Andromeda commented, placing her teacup on the coffee table.

Harry shook his head. “No… no I don’t think I did, did I?” Harry said, a meek smile toying with his mouth. He sighed, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I just – I truly hate it there, I feel like I’m stagnant and nothing’s going to come and change that, so I decided I – well, that I may as well quit and do something I actually enjoy,” Harry said, taking a deep breath as he finished.

“I’m proud of you Harry,” Andromeda smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. Turning slightly, Harry quickly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her once more.

“Thank you, Andie,” he said.

She chuckled. “Anytime,” she replied softly.

“I also – I wanted to have more time to be able to spend with Teddy and, I was wondering – well, it was more like I had an idea and –“ he muttered, tripping over his words, unable to say what was on his mind.

“Teddy would be more than happy to spend the holidays with you Harry,” Andromeda said, and Harry snapped his head up to look at her.

“How -?”

“I figured that if you ever quit your job as an Auror, you’d want to spend more time with Teddy,” she grinned. “Honestly Harry, I’ve been telling you for years he wants to live with you, his Dad,” Andromeda said, exasperated.

“Do you really think he sees me as his Dad?” Harry asked. Whilst Andromeda had always told him that he was like Teddy’s father, he had never believed it because Teddy had never called him anything other than Uncle Harry.

Andromeda paused, as if seeing whether or not Harry was paying attention. “When he was seven years old, he told me he didn’t mind not having a Dad because he had an Uncle Harry who was _better_ than any Dad he could imagine,” she replied nonchalantly, before turning to smile at him. “So yes Harry. He might never call you Dad, but trust me when I say, you _are_ his Dad.”

Harry smiled to himself. “I was unsure if I’d be a good Father,” he said, leaning back on the sofa.

“I feel like there might be more to that sentence,” Andromeda added, smiling into her tea.

With a laugh, Harry said, “Yeah, there is.” He fixed his glasses. “It’s incredibly difficult to argue with an enthusiastic eight-year-old,” he grinned.

Andromeda smiled too. “You know, I happened to meet an enthusiastic eight-year-old today,” she said, as if talking about the weather.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

“He insisted that _you_ were a _wonderful_ friend because you would listen to him speak about dragons,” she smirked. “He seemed to believe you and his Father were ‘very _very_ close friends’.”

Harry sipped his tea. “What a strange coincidence,” he said, pretending to be clueless.

With a hum, Andromeda poured herself some more tea. “Strange indeed,” she replied, her eyes shining. “So how long have you been frequenting my nephew’s teashop?” she asked, and Harry tried his best to not choke on his tea.

“Excuse me?” he squeaked, still trying not to choke on the tea.

“My nephew, Draco, how long have you been visiting his shop?” she asked again, grinning as Harry felt himself blush.

“A few months,” he muttered, unable to look Andromeda in the eye. “I didn’t know you were in contact with him,” Harry said, certain Draco had mentioned that they _weren’t_ in contact with each other.

“He sent me a letter a few weeks ago, asking if I wanted to meet his son,” she explained. “I think I’d have said yes no matter the reason. I don’t like what the war did to our family,” she sighed. “We’ve met a few times after that, but it wasn’t until today that I learnt you had been meeting with them too,” she said, a knowing glint in her eye as Harry fiddled with his teacup.

“I’m not sure how to bring it up in conversation,” Harry sighed. “Not because I’m ashamed to be friends with Draco!” he added hastily, seeing Andromeda’s eyes darken. “But because I’m unsure how everyone else feels about him. I don’t want him to get hurt because someone decides to go and punch him,” he said, curling up as best he could around his cup.

“Do you really think your family would do that?” Andromeda asked, as if the very notion was ridiculous.

Harry felt the guilt pool in his stomach. “I don’t– not really,” he said, bringing his thumb to his mouth, chewing on his fingernail. “Maybe if we were still fifteen, but not now.”

“Good,” Andromeda nodded. “My nephew has taken quite a liking with you,” she added, sipping her tea as Harry felt his cheeks flush.

“Scorpius?” he asked, his voice unstable.

Andromeda smirked. “Draco,” she replied. “I may consider you family, Harry, but if you break that boy’s heart I will personally see to your demise,” she said coolly, before smiling softly at Harry. “Not because I value him more than you, dear, but because it will be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made,” she added, probably upon seeing Harry’s stricken face. “Scorpius wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t stop talking about you,” she chuckled, her laugh like wind chimes.

“Let me guess, ‘ _Potter had abysmal manners, and he knows_ nothing _about tea Auntie! It’s a crime, how little he knows’_ ,” Harry said, unable to stop a smile from pushing its way onto his face.

Andromeda laughed at his impression. “That was a little bit of it, I suppose,” she said, collecting herself. “He also mentioned how much he admires you, the way you handle Scorpius with such care and support, how you’ve never once asked questions you know would make him uncomfortable, despite the burning need to know,” she said, her eyes never leaving Harry.

“He – he really said all that?” Harry asked, his face burning, and a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Perhaps not in those words, but he didn’t need to say it all,” she grinned. “An old woman sees things you know.”

“You’re not –“ Harry began.

“If you say old, Harry, whilst I’ll be flattered, I _will_ have to point out that you’re wrong,” Andromeda challenged, raising an eyebrow. “I’d say the two of you are rather moonstruck with each other.”

“Moonstruck?” Harry asked, having never heard the term before.

“Unable to act or think normally as a result of love, and the way both of you act when the other’s name is only so much as mentioned – _you_ are moonstruck my dear,” she said, her eyes shining as Harry felt himself go red.

“So, I should ask him on a date? Is what you’re saying?” Harry asked, placing his finished teacup on the table.

“That’s what you chose to take from that?” Andromeda asked, amused. “In simple terms, I suppose I am,” she said, taking a final sip of tea. “Anyway, did you hear about Teddy’s broken tooth?”

\-----

“Harry?” Draco said, standing up straight as Harry waved at him, entering the shop. It was still early in the day, and the shop was yet to fill with any customers; the only people in the shop were Draco and Scorpius, who was talking to Ladon. “Is everything, all right? You work on Saturdays,” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Harry grinned. “Everything’s _fine_ Draco,” he assured, hesitantly placing a hand over Draco’s, which was resting on the counter. “I – _er_ – I quit my job.”

“Really?” Draco asked, his eyes snapping up to meet Harry’s.

With a wide grin, Harry linked his finger’s with Draco’s, who hadn’t noticed they were holding hands yet. “I did,” he replied. “I’ve been finding excuses for years, but I’m _tired_ of it,” he sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, but was unable to, as Draco reached out and grabbed his other hand.

“Do you regret it?” Draco asked, his eye’s scanning over Harry’s face as he rubbed his thumb in circles over the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry felt a blush creep up the back of his neck as he realised Draco didn’t notice the casual affection. “No, I – I really don’t actually,” he smiled. “I asked Teddy if he wants to stay over Christmas,” he added, diverting his eyes from Draco, to stare at the counter. “The only reason he couldn’t was because my job took up too much of my time. I just want to be with the people I care about,” Harry said, looking at Draco and hoping Draco would realise _he_ was included on that list.

“And one of the first things you did,” Draco began, his face turning pink as he realised. “Was – _was visit the shop_?”

Harry nodded. “You and Scorpius, yes,” he said, containing a laugh as Draco was staring at him, opening his mouth to say something, but seeming to be unable to think of anything.

“Harry –“

“Do you want to go on a date?” Harry blurted, unsure where the confidence came from.

Draco blinked. “A date?” he asked, as if he had misheard.

“A date,” Harry confirmed, a small smile pulling at his mouth as Draco smirked.

“All right Potter,” Draco grinned, squeezing Harry’s hands with his own. “I’ll allow you to be graced by my presence on a date,” he drawled, grinning when Harry rolled his eyes at his theatrics. “I expect chocolates.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want a horse-drawn carriage and a pile of gold?” he joked.

Draco considered the offer. “That too I suppose,” he sniffed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you come in for tea, or did you just wish to bother me with your general existence?” Draco deflected, letting go of Harry’s hands, much to Harry’s disappointment, only to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Harry’s ear.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. “Anyway, you clearly like me, even if it’s only a little, you said _yes_ to a date with me,” he grinned widely, poking Draco’s cheek.

Draco flicked Harry’s forehead.

“I’m starting to have second-thoughts,” he stated bluntly, rolling up his sleeves. “ _Tea_ , Scarhead?’

“Do you have any peppermint tea?” he asked, ignoring the ‘ _Scarhead’_ comment, internally trying to figure out a witty response.

“I think we still have some,” Draco muttered, searching his shelves. “You’re in luck Potter,” he smiled, pulling a jar off the shelf. “You’re also lucky you’re here before we get busy, or I might have run out.”

“Are Saturdays busy then?” Harry asked, unsure if he’d ever seen more than six people in the shop at once.

“Very,” Draco replied, placing a teacup on the counter. “The weekend rush,” he smirked, glancing at Harry. “I’ll bring this to you when it’s done, now stop distracting me,” he said, waving his hand at Harry dismissively.

“I’m distracting, am I?” Harry grinned, leaning towards Draco, who looked at Harry, exasperated.

“We’ve established you’re handsome, now scram,” Draco said, making a shooing gesture with his hands, his face a light shade of pink.

With a smile, Harry left Draco to his own devices and went to join Scorpius, rather than sitting at his usual spot by the fireplace. “Good Morning Scorp’,” he said. “And Ladon,” he added, seeing the green dragon tucked in the blond’s arms.

“Hi Harry!” Scorpius enthused, before he lifted Ladon to his ear. “Ladon says hello too,” he nodded, pushing the dragon towards Harry. “He says that he missed you,” Scorpius added, his eyes on Harry as he grinned a toothy grin.

Harry chuckled. “Well, I missed you too Ladon,” he told the plushie with a smile.

“What about me? Did you miss me?” Scorpius asked excitedly, leaning across the table.

“I also missed you Scorp’,” Harry smiled, ruffling the blond’s hair. Scorpius giggled. “Did you and your Dad do anything exciting without me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Scorpius shook his head. “No, not really,” he said, absentmindedly, bouncing Ladon across the table. “Oh!” he exclaimed, dropping Ladon on the table. “We visited Auntie An-drom-e-da,” he said slowly, to make sure he pronounced it correctly. “She’s nice, she gives me biscuits,” he nodded, as if that was all that was needed to determine someone’s intentions.

“The special ones from the silver tin?” Harry asked, trying to ignore the smile that tugged at his face as Scorpius’ eyes went wide.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “How’d you know?” he asked, sceptical.

“Your Auntie is a good friend of mine,” Harry said, leaning back on his chair. “My Godchild is her grandson,” he explained, and Scorpius scrunched his eyebrows together.

“So, I’m related to your Godchild?” Scorpius asked, clearly imitating someone he knew, and Harry was unsure who.

Harry nodded.

“Does this mean we’re already family?” Scorpius asked bouncing up and down.

With a spluttered laugh, Harry nodded. “I suppose it does,” he smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m glad to see you two are having fun,” Draco said behind Harry, almost scaring him out of his chair. “Your tea Harry,” he smiled softly, making Harry’s legs feel numb.

“Thanks,” he said, his breath hitching in his throat slightly. He coughed. “So, when will you get busy?’ Harry asked, pouring himself some tea.

Draco pondered for a moment, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Anytime now actually,” he shrugged. “I’d better go get prepared,” he said, leaning forward to kiss Scorpius on the top of his head. “Is there anything you’d like mon cœur?” he asked.

Scorpius shook his head. “No thank you Daddy, I have Ladon and my crayons,” he assured, in the way that made an eight-year-old seem to be an old soul.

As Draco was leaving, Harry caught his sleeve. “Let me know if you want any help, okay?” he said, staring intently at Draco, so he’d realise Harry wasn’t just saying it out of politeness.

“I will,” Draco smiled, pulling Harry’s hand up to his lips. “Can you handle carrying teapots to tables without dropping anything?” he teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You underestimate me Draco,” he drawled. “I think I’m strong enough to hold a teapot,” he said pointedly.

Draco chuckled. “I’ll come to you if I need any help then,” he smirked, letting go of Harry’s hand to return to the counter.

\-----

It was about three hours later when Harry realised, Draco was not kidding, nor was he exaggerating. The teashop was incredibly busy.

Harry watched as Draco raced from one side of the shop to the other, balancing everything in one hand and clearing with the other. How he hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion or dropped anything was beyond Harry.

The volume within the shop had gone up tenfold, however it took a while for Harry to notice as Scorpius was showing Harry the multiple drawings he had done. As Scorpius was showing him a drawing that he had done of the three of them (which melted his heart), Harry realised, that Draco – the stubborn bastard – was not going to ask for help, despite being on the verge of being unable to cope with the amount of work he had to do.

With a quick explanation to Scorpius, Harry headed to the counter, picked up an apron that was hanging from the wall, and quickly picked up a tray before Draco could.

“Harry –“

“Where am I taking this?” Harry interrupted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when Draco looked visibly relieved.

“Table six, in the far corner,” Draco said, pointing in the direction Harry needed to take it.

Over the next few hours, they fell into a routine. Harry could see why Draco loved the teashop so much. He enjoyed talking to people, getting their orders, and seeing how much they enjoyed the tea Draco would make. Even when the orders started to slow, Harry continued to help, not only because he wanted to, but because he found that he enjoyed it.

There were very few customers in the shop now, and as Harry went to pick up another teapot, Draco nudge him with his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the teashop, but _Merlin_ , sometimes I forget how tiring it can be by myself,” Draco muttered, rubbing his forearm.

“Anytime Draco,” Harry smiled. “Besides,” he said, picking up the teapot. “I can see why you love this teashop so much,” he shrugged, leaving Draco with an amused, but perplexed look on his face.

Another thing that he had discovered was that he really had learnt a lot about tea from Draco. He was no expert, that was a title still earned only by Draco himself, but he knew more than the average person. It might have been because he couldn’t help but remember every conversation he had ever had with Draco, but he liked to think it was because he had an excellent memory – despite forgetting where he placed his wand on a number of occasions.

“Sencha for two?” Harry asked as he approached the table, despite the old couple being the only customers left in the shop that Harry hadn’t already served.

“That’s us, thank you dear,” one of the women said, with a warm smile. The couple was one that Harry recognised and so he assumed they must be regulars. He placed the teapot on the table, careful not to drop it, and placed a teacup in front of each of them.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, as best he could, the best way to drink sencha, but the other woman beat him to it. “Don’t worry about explaining it to us dear, Draco’s explained it to us many times,” she chuckled, and Harry couldn’t help joining in.

“I’ve had that conversation one too many times,” Harry joked, running a hand through his hair as he glanced over at Draco, who was still watching him curiously.

Harry grinned at him. Draco shook his head with a smile, and Harry assumed he also rolled his eyes.

“It’s lovely to see that boy finally hire someone to help him out,” the woman said. “I’ve been telling him for years to at least have someone help him on Saturday’s.”

Before Harry could explain he was only helping out for the day, the other woman nodded. “We’ve been visiting here since it opened,” she explained to Harry. “Although Hilda and I have no idea when that actually was,” she laughed, as Hilda rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, we’re very old, as you keep reminding me Beth,” she grinned. “Be thankful of your memory whilst you have it,” Hilda said to Harry, waving a finger at him.

Harry chuckled. “I don’t have much of a memory now, to be honest,” he joked.

Beth nodded. “Well, it’ll only get worse I’m afraid dear,” she smiled. “We shan’t keep you, but it’s wonderful to see a new face, isn’t it love?” she asked Hilda who nodded.

“It is,” she answered. “Tell Draco we hope he keeps you,” she said, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll pass it on,” he grinned. “My names Harry, by the way,” he said, waving as he left.

As he reached the counter, Draco passed him a cup of tea. It was apple and cinnamon. Harry tried to suppress a smile, but he could feel it tug at the corners of his mouth.

“I see you met Hilda and Beth,” Draco said, sipping his tea.

Harry nodded, humming. “Told me to be thankful for my memory,” he said, glancing over at them to see they were deep in conversation.

Draco let out a burst of laughter, quickly stopping himself as Harry raised his eyebrows. “You have a terrible memory Harry,” he pointed out.

Harry sighed. “That’s what I said,” he grinned. “They just told me it was going to get worse,” he said, smiling as Draco suppressed another laugh. “How long have they been together?” he asked, and Draco thought for a moment.

“I think, about sixty-eight years?” he said, unsure. “The benefits of a magical lifespan I suppose,” Draco shrugged, sipping his tea again.

“They’re witches?” Harry asked, surprised.

Draco nodded. “Upset they didn’t ask for your autograph Potter?” he teased, making Harry roll his eyes.

“O’course not you prat,” Harry said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth once more. “It’s just unusual when I come across people who don’t seem to have any idea who I am,” he admitted.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do people really still bother you that much?” he asked, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the concern.

He shrugged. “It’s definitely nowhere near the same as it was ten years ago, but it’s still difficult to walk down Diagon Alley sometimes,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I usually end up hiding in the back of Florean’s ice cream shop, so it’s not all bad,” Harry chuckled.

“Florean?” Draco asked, curious.

“He used to help me with my History of Magic homework, the summer before third year,” Harry explained. “I think it’s rather difficult to be in awe of someone if you used to help them write about the witch trails,” Harry said, chuckling.

“Just as it’s difficult to be in awe of someone when you’ve seen their first time on a broom,” Draco smirked.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed. “I seem to remember that lesson led to me being the youngest seeker in just over a century,” he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s not what I remember,” he grinned. “You truly do have a terrible memory Potter,” he said, quickly managing to dodge Harry as he tried to whack Draco on the arm.


End file.
